The Hour Shadows Disappear
by Ryeloza
Summary: Now engaged, Tom and Lynette try to start planning their wedding while dealing with work, their crazy families and moving in together. A sequel to "The Glow of the Moon on a Starless Night."
1. Dances

**Disclaimer: **I absolutely don't own _Desperate Housewives_. I'm just having fun.

**Story Summary: **Now engaged, Tom and Lynette try to start planning their wedding while dealing with work, their crazy families and moving in together. A sequel to "The Glow of the Moon on a Starless Night." This picks up right where that left off.

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part One: Dances**

_**Waltz**_

Once the words were out of his mouth, Tom found himself unable to breathe as he waited for Lynette to answer. He felt like an eternity passed him by as he stood and watched a rainbow of emotions cross her features. Finally she nodded. Tom smiled, amazed that his legs didn't give out considering how jittery he felt, as Lynette threw her arms around him and kissed him. "Yes I will," she said, continuing to pepper his lips with kisses. He squeezed her tightly, slightly shocked that she'd assented. It was a surreal concept: being engaged to this beautiful woman who smiled at him like he'd given her the world. He wasn't quite sure he'd done anything to deserve such adoration.

Lynette finally pulled back a little and offered him her hand; it took Tom a moment to realize he still had to give her the ring. Shakily he removed the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger; it glimmered prettily in the moonlight and Tom felt a slight thrill of satisfaction that he'd chosen the right one. "It's beautiful," said Lynette, echoing his thoughts. She wrapped her arms behind his neck and drew him closer, kissing him passionately. Tom responded in kind, settling his hands low on her back and pulling her body flush against his. They stood for quite awhile, making out under the moonlit night sky, until Lynette whispered, "We should get in the car."

Tom, who had entirely forgotten where they were, said, "The car?"

"It's either that or I'm going to screw your brains out right here on the dock." Tom groaned at the thought and let his hands drift down the backs of her legs until he reached the hem of her skirt; he hiked it up and trailed his fingertips up the soft skin of her thighs. "Tom…" she chastised weakly as he sucked her earlobe into his mouth.

Becoming painfully aware that if he didn't move to the car now he soon wouldn't be able to, Tom slowly released his hold on her. "Okay, fine. Do you remember where we parked?"

Lynette smiled wickedly, pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it at him. "Sure. Try to keep up." She threw him one last grin and then dashed off into the night, laughing as she went. Tom shook his head and then took off after her.

_**Tango**_

"I made a list."

Tom glanced at Lynette, who stood next to the couch with a legal pad and pen in her hands, and then looked back at the television. "You need more beer. This is the last one." He took a swig of it to punctuate his point.

"It's not a grocery list."

"Oh. Well can't work wait until tomorrow? Oh, come on, run the ball!"

Lynette gave the football game a slightly disdainful look and then stepped in front Tom; instinctively he tried to peer around her. "This is about our impending marriage, Tom. Remember yesterday? You proposed?" She wiggled her ring finger in his face and Tom finally looked up at her.

"You're not having second thoughts?"

"What? No." Lynette took advantage of his attention by straddling his lap; he rested his hands on her hips, resigned to missing some of the game. "We've only been dating for four months and then you proposed before we ever really talked about marriage, so I made a list of all of those big topics people usually talk about before they get engaged. You know, so we can make sure we're on the same page."

"Are you serious?"

"Tom!"

"Okay. You're serious."

"Do you really think we don't need to talk about this stuff?"

Tom squeezed her hips playfully, trying to lighten the mood. He hadn't meant to slight Lynette's realist tendencies. "I don't even know what's on the list,"

"Money, living arrangements, holidays, _kids_."

"You don't want kids."

"You do."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

Tom sighed and leaned forward, resting his forehead against her breasts. Her free hand played with the hair on the back of his neck. "Can't we just have sex again?"

"Sex doesn't solve everything."

"Fine." He sat up again and put his hands on her shoulders. "Let's move in together."

"Okay."

Tom grinned. "Really? That's it?"

"It's a start."

"Honey, we are going to figure all this stuff out. It's just going to take a little time."

Lynette studied him for a moment and then acquiesced with a little nod, patting his chest. "You're right. You're right." Lynette gave him a quick peck and shimmied off of his lap. Satisfied, Tom turned his eyes back to the football game; no one had scored while his attention was diverted. "By the way," said Lynette, "I was thinking March for the wedding."

"March? As in five months from now March?"

"Yep." She smiled and then walked away toward the bedroom.

Tom downed the rest of his beer and then got off the couch, following his fiancé from the room. When he got to the bedroom he found her gathering dirty laundry, unceremoniously dumping it into the clothes basket. "Why March?"

"Ed's retiring at the end of April, so if I get that promotion that's when I'll start. I figured March will be early enough for us to have a wedding and a honeymoon and get settled."

"March?"

"March eighth." She paused and stared at him. "When were you thinking?"

Tom fumbled for an answer that wouldn't upset her because the truth was that he hadn't though much farther than the proposal. He'd had a vision of them, happy and warm and secure together, but as far as the wedding went, he hadn't even begun to consider specifics. "Uh…" he finally said, much less eloquently than he wished.

"I know it's soon, but I think we can pull it off. I don't want a huge wedding." Lynette shifted the weight of the laundry basket from one hip to the other and looked at him hesitantly. He suddenly realized that all of the questions and practicalities were her way of dealing some anxiety—about the wedding or marriage or something else entirely he wasn't sure—and he forced himself to relax for her sake.

"My sister is an events coordinator. I'm sure she'd be thrilled to help out. If you want."

Lynette gave him a brilliant smile that finally wiped out the worry in her eyes. "So March eighth?"

"March eighth."

Dropping the laundry basket, she crossed the room and flung her arms around him, kissing him and giggling all at once.

_**Jive**_

The next morning, Tom woke up surprised to find the room alive with sunlight and Lynette still dead asleep beside him. He gazed down at her for a few groggy minutes, drinking in the sight of her peaceful expression and naked breasts. Just as he began to wonder if they'd have enough time for sex before work, he glanced at the clock and was surprised to find it out. "Oh shit," he said, leaning over Lynette and groping for her watch. The movement woke Lynette enough to make her groan and roll over, but when Tom saw they were only thirty minutes away from being late, he shook her. "The alarm didn't go off. We overslept," he said, rolling out of bed. Lynette barely responded.

"Lynette." Tom pulled the covers off of her and she contracted into a tight ball.

"Go away."

"Baby, you're not listening. We're going to be late. For work." Tom went into the bathroom without waiting for her to respond and started to brush his teeth. He was just rinsing his mouth when Lynette ran into the bathroom, her hair flying in ten different directions and her eyes wide.

"The alarm didn't go off!" She announced this as though Tom hadn't mentioned it already and he rolled his eyes. Fortunately, she caught sight of herself in the mirror then and ignored Tom. "Oh God, my hair." He moved just as she made a beeline for the sink; she turned the on water and stuck her head underneath, wetting down her hair. Tom tossed a towel in her direction and went back to the bedroom to change.

By the time Lynette emerged from the bathroom with her hair twisted back and her makeup done, Tom was finished dressing. He watched in morbid fascination as Lynette flew around the room like a tornado, haphazardly throwing on her clothes. "How did this happen?"

"The power must have gone out."

Lynette buttoned up her blouse with deft fingers and slipped into her heels at the same time. "Why don't I have a battery-operated alarm? Shit. We are going to be so late."

"We still have fourteen minutes."

"It's a twenty minute drive." She fastened her watch and hurried out of the room, not bothering to check to see if he followed.

"We got engaged this weekend. People might understand if we're a little late."

"I don't like being late."

Tom grabbed two bananas off of the counter and peeled them while Lynette tracked down their briefcases. "Here," he said, meeting her at the door. She opened her mouth obediently and he stuck the banana in and then she handed him his briefcase. In that moment, despite the flurry of activity and ticking clock, they both paused and stared at one another.

"When did we get into a rhythm like this?"

"I have no idea."

Lynette smiled for the briefest moment and then flung open the door. "Your car keys are in my pocket."

Tom fished them out and shut the door behind him.


	2. Falling

**Disclaimer: **Less than twenty-four hours and nothing has changed. I still don't own _Desperate Housewives_.

**A/n: **Thank you all so much for the feedback! I'm glad you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it!

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Two: Falling**

_**Out**_

Lynette didn't look up from her work when she heard the door to her office close, under the assumption that it was Tom. He was the only one who shut the door behind him on occasion and usually it was because he wanted to engage in less than appropriate work behavior. Too bad for him, she didn't have the time for it today. "I'm working through lunch so we can get out of here at a decent time," she said without prompting. "So don't even think about starting something dirty." She tossed aside a pile of statistics she'd been looking at for so long that her eyes were beginning to blur and finally glanced up. Her heart sank at the sight of Annabel and she sighed, "Oh crap."

"There's a rumor going around that Tom gave his two week notice to Anderson because he got a new job. At the Peterson firm."

"Really?" Lynette wasn't able to keep the sarcasm out of her tone, which always seemed to be the case when she spoke to Annabel. "Well good for him."

"It's not going to work, you know."

"What?"

"You think that's going to keep him away from me. If anything this just shows me how insecure you really are."

Lynette stared at Annabel. There was something scared and hurt behind her smug expression and for the first time Lynette felt pity for the other woman. If she'd felt even half of what Lynette felt for Tom then her heart must have been pretty badly broken. Her voice softened: "Annabel, you need to move on."

"Yeah, that would make your life easier, wouldn't it?"

"Tom and I are engaged."

A score of emotions washed through Annabel's eyes and she shook her head. "No you're not."

Lynette held up her ring finger, somewhat surprised that this information hadn't reached Annabel before Tom's resignation; half the office had already congratulated them. At the sight of the ring, Annabel turned and left the room without another word and Lynette gave a small sigh of relief.

_**Apart**_

Despite her best intentions, Lynette didn't leave work until nearly eight o'clock that night, grabbing a ride to Tom's with her friend Natalie. Indifferent to the slightly dingy carpet that lined the halls of Tom's apartment building, Lynette took off her heels the second she got into the elevator and wearily let down her hair. The week had already consisted of three agonizingly long days and Lynette had little hope that Thursday and Friday would go much better.

Lynette had just fished out the key to Tom's apartment when she heard a distinctly female voice shouting from inside. Her heart caught in her throat and she quickly fumbled to unlock the door. Inside, she was unsurprised but disappointed to see that the angry woman was Annabel and she cursed herself for being naïve enough to believe that this afternoon would be the end of the drama.

"Great," Annabel sneered as Lynette dropped her briefcase and shoes on the floor behind her. "You're just who I wanted to see."

"What are you doing here?"

"Lynette," interjected Tom nervously. It did no good; both she and Annabel ignored him.

"I needed to talk to Tom."

"You can talk to Tom at work."

"Privately."

Lynette crossed her arms. "You know, I could almost admire your persistence if you weren't trying to steal my fiancé."

"I'm not doing anything of the sort."

"Of course. Then you won't mind when I tell you to stay the hell away from Tom."

"Gladly." Annabel snatched her purse off of the couch. "Neither of you are worth my time." She threw one last scowl in Tom's direction and stormed toward the door, elbowing Lynette as she passed. Lynette tried and failed not to react; the momentum from Annabel's shove forced her to step backwards and she stepped directly on the heel of one of her abandoned shoes, losing her balance and falling hard. Annabel laughed haughtily and left.

"Are you okay?" Tom was at her side before the door clicked shut.

"No. I twisted my ankle."

Gently, Tom inspected the offended limb; even in the dim light of the apartment Lynette could already see that it was swollen and she frowned. "Wow. I think you might have sprained it."

"Wonderful."

Tom sighed and slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back; she wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to lift her. "She came over to tell me she's moving back to Chicago."

"What?"

"Annabel is quitting. She's moving back to Chicago. That's where she's from originally."

"Oh." Tom lay Lynette on the bed and gingerly lifted her legs so he could sit and get a better look at her ankle. "I heard her yelling."

"Yeah, she's pretty pissed."

"I don't like her. Ow!"

"Sorry. This is definitely sprained." Tom stood and disappeared into the bathroom. "Lucky for you I'm an expert."

Lynette sighed and leaned back into the cool pillow, embarrassed and annoyed. She'd obviously overreacted and she felt like she'd been as insecure as Annabel claimed she was. "Alright, babe." Tom returned with an Ace bandage and sat back down, carefully and efficiently wrapping her ankle. Then he lifted her leg high enough to prop a couple of pillows underneath. "You need to keep it elevated. I'm going to get you some ice."

By the time Tom returned with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel, Lynette was already trying to get out of bed without assistance. "What are you doing?" he asked. He rolled his eyes and pushed her shoulders back so she was lying down again.

"My glasses are in my briefcase."

"So I'll get them. God, you're stubborn."

Lynette drew in a breath as the ice came in contact with her ankle. "I'm self-sufficient."

"Too bad. You're confined to bed for the rest of the night. Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor."

Tom laughed and squeezed the toes of her uninjured foot. "And you're a terrible patient."

_**Open**_

"So," said Tom, flopping down on the bed and giving her a dorky grin, "let's talk Thanksgiving."

Lynette quirked an eyebrow at him in surprise. Against his wishes, she'd hobbled into work for the past two days on a pair of old crutches he had and now that it was the weekend, he'd pretty much ordered her to take it easy. She put up a bit of a fuss for show, but she was mostly relieved to spend a night just lying in bed watching television. Apparently Tom had other ideas, however. "Thanksgiving?"

"Well holidays were on your list, weren't they?"

Now seeing this as clear revenge, Lynette clicked the mute button on the remote and shook her head. "Okay. I'm listening."

"Is your family getting together?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Well…yeah."

"My parents are going to Kentucky to see my aunt and my sister is hosting Thanksgiving for her in-laws. She invited us, but I can't stand Shawn's family. So I was thinking we could spend Thanksgiving with your family."

"Or we could spend the day sticking red hot pokers in our eyes."

"There's no way it can be that bad."

"Oh yes, it can. Within twenty minutes Lydia will be fighting with my mom and my brother-in-law will be halfway to drunk—which, by the way, is the only way to survive any of my family gatherings—and that'll set Lucy off…and just…no."

"We're getting married. I'm going to have to meet your family eventually."

"How about at the wedding?"

"Well that's the other thing. It would be the perfect time to announce the engagement."

Lynette laughed nervously. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"I figured I'd just let it slip to Lucy sometime and let it spread like wildfire from there."

"Why do I get the feeling you're not joking?"

"Because I'm not."

Tom pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Sweetie, we can't avoid your family forever."

"The last time I went to a family Thanksgiving my mom drove Lydia's boyfriend out of the house. We never heard from him again."

"Lynette."

"He could be dead for all we know."

Tom stared at her stubbornly and Lynette slowly realized that he was deadly serious; he actually wanted to spend Thanksgiving with her family. "You're crazy, you know that?"

"Crazy for you."

Lynette laughed and kissed him. "And you're a big dork."

"That I did know."

_**Forward**_

Saturday morning Lynette woke up to a loud knock on the door. Groaning, she reached over to poke Tom only to find his side of the bed empty. Slowly she opened her eyes and noticed a note in his place; "Gone to get donuts," she read aloud. There was another knock at the door and Lynette cursed under her breath; apparently Tom had locked himself out. Again.

Lynette hobbled to the door as quickly as she could, but when she finally opened it she found not Tom, but a woman. She looked to be about ten years Lynette's senior and she was hugely pregnant; probably in her third trimester. She took in Lynette with big, amused green eyes and smiled. Self-consciously, Lynette realized she was wearing nothing but Tom's boxers and her bra and she bit her lip sheepishly.

"You must be Lynette." She pushed her light reddish-brown hair behind her ears and then stuck out a hand. "I'm Christa, Tom's sister."

"Oh! Oh, hi! Nice to meet you." Lynette shook her hand vigorously. "Sorry about…this," she gestured to her outfit. "I was in bed."

"Oh?" Christa grinned and Lynette felt herself blush.

"Tom went to get donuts," she explained, not wanting to give Christa the wrong idea. This wasn't how she'd planned to meet Tom's sister. Awkwardly she maneuvered with her crutches to give Christa room to come in. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Sit down," ordered Christa. "I'll get it."

Even though she was hugely pregnant, Christa still moved faster than Lynette and she was in the kitchen before Lynette could insist on being a good hostess. "I should at least get dressed."

Christa smiled and tossed her one of Tom's t-shirts that sat in the laundry basket on the kitchen table. Grateful, Lynette pulled it on and sat down on the couch. "I can't say I've met too many of my brother's girlfriends," said Christa, waddling from the kitchen area back to the living room with a bottle of water. She eased herself into the big easy chair and smiled. Lynette brushed her hair behind her ears, still off-kilter and Christa's eyes widened. "Or should I say fiancé? What is that on your finger?"

"Oh!" Too late, Lynette tried to hide her left hand.

"Are you engaged?"

"Well…yes."

"Oh my God!" Christa grinned at her. "I would hug you if I wasn't incapable of getting out of this chair by myself! When did this happen?"

"Last Saturday."

The sound of the door opening interrupted whatever Christa planned to say next and Tom came into the room with a big bakery box. "They still had the cream-filled…Christa?"

"You've been engaged for a week and you didn't tell me?"

Tom set the box next to Lynette on the couch and bent to hug his sister. "What are you doing here?"

"Shawn took the kids to see his mom, so I thought I'd drop by for a little while. I can't believe you didn't tell me about this! Do Mom and Dad know yet?"

Tom backed up to sit next to Lynette; she rescued the donut box just in time, opening it and plucking the aforementioned cream-filled one from the box. "No. And don't you tell them."

Christa rolled her eyes. "This is huge news! Have you set a date already?"

"March eighth," said Lynette, through a mouthful of donut. She swallowed and passed the box over to Christa. Even though they'd just met and Lynette hadn't even mentioned the wedding to her own sisters yet, she felt some obligation to this excitable woman who clearly loved Tom. "Would you be one of my bridesmaids?"

Tom looked at her curiously and she gave a slight shrug; Christa just smiled. "You don't have to ask if you don't want to. Shawn has four sisters; I know how it is."

"Lynette never says anything she doesn't mean," said Tom loyally, squeezing her knee.

"Unfortunately that might be true," Lynette admitted. Her mouth had gotten her into trouble as often as it saved her. Christa studied Lynette and after a moment she seemed to take the words at face value.

"Okay. I'd love to."

"Great. We have absolutely nothing planned beyond the date, so whatever advice you might have…"

"Oh, now you're opening a can of worms." Christa laughed. "I can be a little pushy sometimes."

"Don't worry," said Lynette. "So can I."

_**Back**_

By the time Christa left, Lynette had an entirely new list of possible locations for the ceremony and reception as well as suggestions for photographers and florists. Christa wasn't nearly as pushy as she'd admitted, and the advice was actually helpful as Lynette hadn't had a clue where to begin. She even offered to come back the following weekend and take them to look at a few locations.

"She's sweet," Lynette said, stretching out along the length of the couch. Before she could get comfortable, Tom pushed her back into a sitting position and sat behind her, spreading his legs so she could lie back against his chest. Lightly he ran his fingers up and down her arm.

"Try to remember that when you meet Shawn."

"Is he really that bad?"

"Christa's like a different person around him. I don't know. I've never liked him."

"You were fifteen when she got married."

"So?"

"So maybe that clouded your judgment a little."

"Trust me. You'll understand when you meet him."

Lynette let the subject drop, sighing contentedly and shutting her eyes. She felt like she could sleep quite soundly, especially with Tom acting as her pillow, so she ignored him when his hand moved under her shirt and up to fondle her breast.

"You're not going to sleep, are you?"

"Mm-hm."

Tom kissed her ear, lightly tugging the rim of it into his mouth and nipping softly. "I can think of a much better way to spend the afternoon."

"We can have sex later," she said, yawning. "I need a nap."

"Oh come on!"

"If you let me sleep I'll make it worth your while."

Tom seemed to consider this. "Shower sex?"

"I can't stand yet, remember? How about on the chair? Sitting up…easy access…"

"Oh, yes. Definitely."

"Great." Lynette turned her head and held onto Tom's arm like a security blanket.

"But couldn't we have sex first and then sleep?"

"Shut up, Tom."


	3. Onward

**Disclaimer: **Not mine! Not mine!

**A/n: **Reviews are like batteries; they keep me going and going and going. Thank you to everyone who left feedback! And please forgive the French in here if it's atrocious; I had to rely on google.

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Three: Onward**

_**Locale**_

Tom opened Lynette's car door and propped the crutches he'd pulled out of the back seat against the door. Lynette wasn't happy about still being unable to walk on her own, but the crutches were now officially doctor's orders. When her ankle hadn't looked better Sunday night Tom had forced her to go to the doctor's on Monday where she'd been ordered to stay off of it for at least two more weeks. The news hadn't gone over entirely well and she seemed to blame Tom for the treatment. Of course, in retrospect, he probably shouldn't have told her, "I told you so."

"Do you need some help?"

"No. I'm fine." Lynette waved away his hand and struggled out of the car on her own, taking her crutches. The parking lot wasn't in the best shape, full of cracks and holes, but Lynette started toward the building before he even had the car door shut. Tom sighed after her; heaven help him if she fell and further injured herself.

Thankfully, they managed to get inside the modest brick building without incident, but Tom's spirits deflated when he saw that his sister had brought her husband with her on this expedition. She and Shawn were already in the lobby, Christa in a vivid discussion with a tall man in a suit and Shawn leaning haphazardly against a visitor's counter. "Oh hey!" said Christa, spotting them. She abandoned the man she was talking to and walked over to them, somehow managing to hug Lynette around the crutches and her large belly. "Shawn, get over here!"

"Chris, what's he doing here?" muttered Tom as his sister gave him a quick hug.

Christa ignored him and beckoned Shawn over again; this time her husband crossed the room. "Shawn, this is Lynette. Lynette, this is my husband, Shawn."

"Hey."

"Hi," said Lynette, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"_Enchant_é."

"Oh!" Lynette smiled brilliantly. "_Parlez-vous français_?"

Tom gawked at Lynette as Shawn tittered, clearly off-put. "Only a little," he said. "And from the sound of it, not as well as you."

"Shawn's a jack-of-all-trades," offered Christa, looping her arm through Shawn's and looking up at him adoringly. Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "He just recently took French lessons." Lynette nodded and purposely averted her eyes from Tom's. "Come on. I want you to meet Harry."

Christa turned, taking Shawn with her, and Tom murmured quietly, "I didn't know you spoke French."

"I spent a semester abroad in Paris."

Before Tom could formulate a response, Christa introduced them to the tall man she'd been conversing with when they'd entered. "Harry's going to walk us through," explained Christa. "_Slowly_, since the bride is on crutches and I'm not much swifter than a turtle at the moment."

Harry smiled indulgently and crossed the lobby to a pair of sliding French doors to the right. "We can do the ceremony as well as the reception here if you'd like." He led them into the room, a square, bare-bones affair with luscious beige carpet and rows of seating that resembled the pews of a church. "We do ceremonies in here. The room accommodates about one hundred and fifty people."

"How are the acoustics?" asked Shawn. He smiled at Lynette. "I play the acoustic guitar."

"That's…nice," said Lynette.

"Yeah. It's such a romantic instrument. Just imagine walking down the aisle to 'Love Will Keep Us Together.'"

Lynette glanced at Tom out of the corner of her eye, unable to articulate a response. Fortunately, Harry saved them by answering Shawn's initial question. "We've had people bring in just about any combination of instruments imaginable with great results."

"Really? I would think all this carpet deadens the sound."

Harry nodded. "If it's a concern we'd be happy to let you test the acoustics yourself."

"Excellent." Shawn leaned closer to Lynette and Tom heard him murmur, "The evils of advertising: people will try to sell you anything. You need to keep it hard and fast with these bastards."

This time Tom was the one who couldn't look at Lynette if he wanted to keep a straight face. He'd heard Shawn's opinions of his chosen profession enough times for it to no longer faze him, but he could only imagine what Lynette was thinking. Harry, either oblivious or uninterested, continued on professionally. "Now if you follow me across the hall here, you can see the reception area." Harry led them back out of the room and directly across the lobby to another set of sliding doors. The next room was much larger, but Tom liked it even less than the first. Pillars were consistently spaced throughout the room, making the placement of the round tables awkward and giving the room a claustrophobic air. Tom drifted off as Harry raved about the assets of the room and Shawn asked one annoying question after another. Finally, Harry excused himself to give them time to talk.

"What do you think?" asked Christa.

"I hated it."

"Yeah, I gathered that much," said Christa, rolling her eyes. "Lynette?"

"It's not exactly what I had in mind. It's just too closed in. I was thinking more natural light."

"Windows do open up a room," offered Shawn.

Christa nodded. "Okay, good. That gives us a starting place. In fact, I can think of at least three places you'd probably love."

"What about the conservatory?" asked Shawn. "Outdoors. Tons of flowers. You couldn't ask for better natural lighting."

"Sweetie, they don't want an outdoor wedding."

"That's because they can't visualize it."

"No, Shawn, it's because we don't want one."

Shawn shook his head. "You're so closed-minded, Tom. You should give it a chance."

"You might like it," conceded Christa, half-apologetically.

Tom opened his mouth, about ready to snap, but Lynette pre-empted him. "I'd rather see the other places you have in mind first, Christa."

Christa nodded and looked at her watch. "I'm pretty good friends with the woman at Fraser Hall. I'm sure she could squeeze us in today."

"That sounds good." Lynette tugged on Tom's sleeve, diverting his glare from Shawn. "That sounds good, right, Tom?"

"Sure."

"Okay, great. You guys can follow us."

Minutes later, Tom and Lynette were safely sequestered in the car following Shawn and Christa; Tom had just turned out of the parking lot when Lynette finally burst. "That man is not playing acoustic guitar while I walk down the aisle."

"Oh, thank God."

"He is so…"

"Egotistical? Annoying? Full of himself?"

"Yeah. I can't believe he's married to your sister."

"Neither can I."

Lynette shook her head. "What does he do for a living?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing?"

"I mean nothing. He was getting his masters in religious studies when Christa met him and his big plan was to go on to get his doctorate and eventually teach at the college level. But then he didn't get accepted into a program, so he started another masters in something else. Then he got bored with that and switched again. He's a professional student without any of the degrees."

"Jeez."

"Oh, but you showing him up with the French was amazing. I wish I'd had a camera." Tom grasped her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Thank you for that."

Lynette grinned. "My pleasure."

_**Another**_

"Well I love this," said Lynette. "Don't you love this?"

Tom had to admit that it was a vast improvement over the previous venue. The room that would serve as the reception area was large and easily maneuverable. Just as Lynette had requested, windows ran the length of two walls and there was a wrap-around deck that framed the outside of those walls and overlooked a garden. Lynette was clearly infatuated.

"It is beautiful," Tom agreed. He felt reluctant to commit before they'd heard a price and turned to Christa's friend, Hannah, who managed the hall. "We wouldn't actually be able to get married here?"

"We aren't really equipped for that unless you'd be willing to rent a second room for the day. People have done that before, but the price runs a lot higher because we lose the function of that room for the whole day."

"What are we talking for just this room?" asked Lynette, blunt as usual.

"For this room? The price runs between nine and thirteen thousand depending on your needs."

Lynette gave a laugh Tom had come to associate with her nerves and Christa's eyes darted from her to Tom and back again. "Can you give us a minute, Hannah?" she asked.

Hannah nodded, clearly skeptical of them now, and left the room. "I know it's a little pricey," said Christa, "but you guys didn't really give me a budget to work with. What are we aiming for here? Seven thousand? Five?"

Lynette laughed again. "I was thinking between one and three."

"Closer to one," Tom put in.

"Is that unreasonable?"

Christa shrugged. "It depends on what you want. If you're set on that budget we might be better off looking at hotels."

"Hotels? Aren't those a little…tacky?"

"Not necessarily. I mean you probably won't have a view like this, but it can still be elegant." Christa waved her arm to accentuate her point and Tom frowned when he caught sight of Shawn heading back into the room. He'd gone outside to inspect the garden and Tom had hoped he'd stay out there until it was time to leave. "I can look into some stuff for you guys if you want."

"That would be great."

"Hey," said Shawn, pecking Christa's lips and smiling at Tom and Lynette. "There's a marble fountain out there that would be a great backdrop for wedding pictures. Have you thought about a photographer yet? Because I've been tinkering with photography lately and I'm pretty good if I do say so myself. Just a thought."

"Oh, he's great," said Christa. "You should really check out his stuff."

"Yeah…" said Lynette, laughing nervously again. She glanced at her watch. "We should really get going. We have a…uh…dinner…thing. Right, Tom?"

"Right," agreed Tom, silently laughing at her atrocious lying skills. If Christa or Shawn picked up on anything, though, they didn't let it show.

"Thanks for everything, Christa."

"Oh, my pleasure. I'll get back to you about the hotels after Thanksgiving, okay?"

"That'd be great."

Lynette took off at a pace that would be unrivaled by anyone else on crutches and Tom kept his strides even with hers, more than ready to be done with the day. As much as he loved his sister, he simply couldn't stand another moment with his brother-in-law.

_**Moving On**_

Tom stood packing up his office and considering if he could get away with taking the stapler with him when there was a knock on his door. He looked up to see Lynette propel herself into the room and she smiled. "Stealing office supplies, Scavo?"

Tom set the stapler in the box—it wouldn't be difficult for whoever took over his office to get a new one—and added a couple of pictures and a half-dead plant his mother had given him. "What's up, sexy? You stop by for one last go around in the ol' office?" He waggled his eyebrows seductively and Lynette laughed.

"Lou offered to give me a ride over to my place, so I'm heading out for the night."

"Your place? Lynette, you live on the sixth floor of a walk-up."

"I haven't been home since I hurt my ankle. I'm running out of clothes at your place and I promised I'd bring an apple pie to dinner tomorrow."

"So bake at my place. I'll swing by your apartment and get you some clothes."

"You have nothing resembling an apple at your place. It'll just be easier for me to go home. And I'll be fine."

Tom shook his head, but didn't argue with her; instead he came around the desk and gave her a quick kiss goodbye. "I will be over soon. Please make sure I don't find your unconscious body at the bottom of a staircase."

"If I hurt my ankle any more I'm cutting off my foot and getting a peg leg." Lynette tugged on his tie and he obliged her with another kiss. "Stop worrying."

"I'm always going to worry about you."

Lynette gave him an unusual smile. "You know, I could skip making the pie and we could go back to your place and have sex in every room. Twice."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. And then we could just sleep through tomorrow."

"Uh-huh." It was the fifth proposal she'd made to get out of dinner in fewer days. "Why don't you just keep that one in mind as my Christmas present?"

"We'll see how tomorrow goes."

After Lynette left, Tom spent nearly another hour packing up his office and finishing some paperwork. It was a bit surreal that he wouldn't be driving back to work with Lynette next Monday, but mostly he felt glad to be going. After two and a half years, that itch for change had started up again; staying at one job for too long made him feel stagnant and bored and usually the only solution was to move on.

As Tom lugged his two boxes worth of stuff he'd accumulated out of his office, he was somewhat unsurprised to find Annabel standing at the elevator with a box of her own. He'd almost expected her, and he was suddenly grateful that Lynette had left earlier. "Hey," she said as he approached.

"Your last day too?"

"I'm leaving for Chicago on Friday. My sister is going to let me crash with her for awhile."

Tom nodded and they entered the elevator together, Annabel jabbing the button for the ground floor rather viciously. They descended in silence and when the elevator doors opened into the lobby of the building, Annabel stilled his movement with a hand on his arm. "You're really going to marry her?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Annabel…don't—"

"I want to know."

Tom looked down at her helplessly, unsure why she kept insisting on torturing herself, but Annabel didn't back down. Finally he took a deep breath and said, "Because…she's everything."

Annabel nodded with teary eyes and stepped out of the elevator. "Goodbye, Tom."

"Annabel." She paused, but didn't turn, and Tom floundered for something to say. "I hope you're happy. In Chicago."

"Thanks." With heels clicking across the marble floor, Annabel left and Tom gave her ample time to leave the premises completely before he followed. The bittersweet feeling of the entire day stayed with him the whole drive, up the six flights of stairs to Lynette's apartment, and through the door where he was greeted by the aroma of apple pie. He found his fiancé in the bedroom, half-asleep with a book draped over her chest.

"Hi," she said sleepily.

"Hey." Tom sat down next to her on the bed and took off her glasses, laying them on the nightstand along with her book. "How's your ankle feeling?"

"Better. The swelling has almost gone down completely and it's turning a lovely shade of bluish-green." Lynette yawned and ran a finger down his forehead, over his nose, lips and chin. "Are you okay? You seem a little…" She shrugged.

"Yeah. Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Lynette shut her eyes. "I'm always going to worry about you," she said, echoing his words from earlier, and Tom smiled.

"Then I guess we're going to be fine."


	4. Crisis

**Disclaimer: **I'm still just amusing myself. This is so much more fun than writing a research paper.

**A/n: **I'd like to extend my thanks again to all of you who are reviewing. It makes all this writing even more worthwhile.

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Four: Crisis**

_**Of Faith**_

Lynette slowly placed her right foot flat on the floor and eased her weight onto it before she took a few cautious steps away from the bed. Her ankle was still tender and stiff and a twinge of pain radiated up her leg, but it wasn't intolerable. She quickly glanced back at Tom, but he was still sleeping soundly and she was able to limp from the room without getting caught.

Her sleep had been restless and filled with shapeless nightmares that had finally woken her just before dawn. In the hour since she'd woken up, she'd been able to do nothing but lie in bed imagining every horrible scenario the day would bring. The only predictable part of her family get-togethers was how badly they went and Lynette could think of a hundred different ways this one could go wrong.

Around the tenth time she'd pictured Tom storming from her sister's house, wordlessly telling her they were through, Lynette had no longer been able to stand her incapacitated misery and she'd ventured out of bed on a mission to get her mind off of things. Her anxieties over him leaving, which had plagued her since she first realized she loved Tom and had only grown more apparent since he'd proposed, had climaxed that morning in a clear moment of panic. Tonight she was taking him into the apex of hell: the one place where every one of her flaws would shine and glint in a fiery storm; what man wouldn't run away from that? She entered the living room and at seeing the light layer of dust that had coated the room in her absence, the perfect distraction came to her. Slowly, she made her way to the closet where she kept her cleaning supplies, and within minutes she fully immersed herself in destroying the grime that had taken over her apartment.

Lynette had every intention of sneaking back to bed before Tom noticed she was gone, but as she scoured the living room, bathroom and kitchen, time slipped away from her. To her detriment, she didn't notice that it was almost eight until she heard Tom's feet padding down the hall. She stepped off of the stool she was standing on to better reach her freezer and grimaced at the shot of pain that radiated from her ankle. As Tom came into the room, she leaned against the kitchen table and casually wiped the surface she'd already cleaned.

"What are you doing?"

Lynette looked up guiltily, but decided to feign innocence. "Cleaning."

Tom wasn't so easily fooled. "Where are your crutches?"

"Tom, come on. I'm fine!" To prove her point, she forced herself to walk a few steps toward him, trying desperately not to limp but finding it more difficult now that she'd been on her feet for two hours. "See?"

When she looked back at Tom she was surprised to see that he looked positively infuriated and she flushed, annoyed by his response. She'd expected him to be worried, maybe even a little exasperated, but not pissed off. She sighed, too exhausted and too anxious to be in any mood to deal with his overreaction. "Don't," she said, holding up a hand before Tom could speak. "I don't want to hear it."

"What the hell are you thinking?" he demanded, completely ignoring her plea. "The doctor said two weeks! Last I counted, ten days is not two weeks!"

"Don't yell at me."

"Why? You don't seem to listen when I talk!"

Lynette rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's rich coming from you!"

Tom shook his head. "Don't turn this around on me! This is about you and that fact that you are the most stubborn woman on earth!" Lynette crossed her arms and subtly leaned most of her weight onto her left foot; her right was positively throbbing. Unfortunately, the action didn't go unnoticed by Tom and before she knew what was happening, he crossed the distance between them, bent and scooped her over his shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing?" Lynette ineffectually smacked at Tom's back, but he just continued to carry her into the bedroom. "Tom! Put me down!"

"Gladly!" Tom unceremoniously dumped her onto the bed and glared down at her. For a moment, she thought about rolling off and storming out, but the pain in her ankle and the look on Tom's face made her think better of it. She sat up slightly, but her body remained tense and her temper was about to explode.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't just treat me like I'm a child!"

"Then stop acting like one!"

Lynette crossed her arms and then threw her head back against the pillow, breathing heavily. "What were you thinking?" asked Tom. He'd finally stopped yelling, but his voice was still hurt and angry. "The doctor told you that you could further tear the ligament if you went too fast. And you risked that just to clean the apartment? Why? Is being dependent on me for a few days really that horrible?"

"No!"

"You just can't let go for even a second—"

"Tom!" she said loudly, effectively stopping him before he went into an out-and-out rant. "I was just trying to relieve some stress!"

"Stress…?"

"See, you're the one who doesn't listen! I told you I didn't want to go to my sister's for Thanksgiving! I told you that! And you didn't listen!"

"What does that have to do with—"

"I'm worried and when I'm worried I can't sleep and when I can't sleep I lie awake thinking and the only way to get my mind off of things is to get up and do something useful!"

Tom sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and, rather generously, she thought, she didn't push him onto the floor. "What are you worried about?" Lynette's eyes widened and she took a couple of deep breaths. She hadn't been entirely aware that she'd admitted that part out loud. "Lynette?"

"You meeting my family."

A flash of pain sparked in Tom's hazel eyes and he leaned back, putting more distance between them. "You're that convinced they're going to hate me?"

"What? No!"

"Lynette, you say I don't listen, but I'm not completely unaware. I knew you weren't exactly looking forward to this, I just didn't realize why."

"Tom!" She propped herself up on her elbows and gawked at him, amazed by how obtuse he could be. "I'm not worried about them hating you; I'm worried about you hating them. I'm worried that you're going to take one look at them—one look at me _with _them—and you're going to run right out the door."

For a few brief seconds, Tom stared at her with a look of disbelief and then he leaned forward and kissed her, hard and long and heatedly. It was a kiss that had something to prove, and Lynette responded in kind, driving her tongue into his mouth and using her hands to pull him closer to her. When he broke the kiss, he laid his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. "I was right," he said quietly. "You're the one who doesn't listen."

"I—"

"Because I know I already told you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I didn't mean that to be a conditional promise. Why can't you just trust me?"

"I do."

Tom kissed the tip of her nose. "You want to. God, I know you want to, but you don't." Lynette took a deep breath, trying and failing to ward off tears. If she'd known walking without her crutches was going to trigger this—but then, this was a confrontation long overdue; ever since she'd first let him see that she wasn't as strong as she pretended to be. Tom's breath was hot on her face and his presence was strong and solid above her, but for how much he was with her now, she still couldn't believe that he wasn't going to leave her—if not by the end of the day then sometime, some day, in some distant future. Gently he began to kiss away the few tears that leaked from her eyes; the tenderness of the action just made her cry harder. "Why can't you believe me when I say forever?" he asked quietly, laying his forehead against hers again. "Baby, please talk to me."

Lynette thought of her father, who had always been distant and had walked out on them without a second thought, and her stepfather, who had loved them dearly and had still left them alone with an unstable mother, and the score of other people who had traipsed so easily in and out of her life. "Lots of people say forever. It doesn't mean anything."

"Then why are we getting married?" Tom pulled away from her, smoothing her hair back with one hand and resting the other on top of her chest. She closed her eyes more tightly, desperately wishing to escape, to go back to last night when everything was calm and right and Tom wasn't aware of her anxieties. "Lynette, please. Look at me." Slowly, Lynette opened her eyes and wiped the tears away with the pads of her fingers. Tom looked like a man who was about to have his heart broken. "Why do you want to marry me?"

"I love you." The words were everything and nothing in this situation.

"I don't know if that's enough," said Tom quietly.

Lynette took a deep breath and audibly exhaled, trying to calm her nerves. She felt like she was on a precipice—one wrong move and she'd be dead. "I never expected you to propose. You shocked me."

"So what? I surprised you into saying yes?"

"No!" Lynette laid a hand over his heart, mirroring his hand's position on her. "In that moment, when you asked me to marry you, I had this one brief, perfect vision of the future where everything was perfect and happy and we grew old and gray together. And I said yes because I want that. I want to be with you. In six months you've come to mean more to me than anyone else in the world and I can't imagine my life without you anymore."

"But that's exactly what you're doing!"

"I'm scared."

"What can I do? Please, just tell me what I can do to prove to you that I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't know." Lynette felt her breath hitch and she started crying again. "That's the scary part."

Tom suddenly stood and in one brief instant of paralyzing fear, Lynette thought he was actually going to leave. Instead he looked down at her and said firmly, "Then I guess dinner tonight is going to be a good start."

"What?"

"I don't care if your mother chops off the turkey's head in your sister's living room tonight. We're going to dinner and you're going to see that you're stuck with me, for better or for worse. That's what getting married is all about. It means that your crazy family is my crazy family. I'm stuck with them the way we're both stuck with Shawn as a brother-in-law." Lynette laughed in spite of herself and Tom bent down and kissed her again, soft and slow this time. "I'm going to prove to you that I'm here to stay, even if it takes the next thirty years. Now," Tom sighed exaggeratedly, obviously trying to lighten the mood, and tugged at a curl of her hair, "will you please stay off of your ankle until you see the doctor again next week?"

"Yes." Lynette ran a hand down his chest and he finally gave her a small smile.

"Thank you."

"If," she said, "you promise me that we can both leave right after dinner."

"It's a deal."

_**Of Family**_

"Is there anything specific I shouldn't mention today?"

"What, like taboo topics?"

"Yeah."

"Sure. My father. My stepfather. Lydia's hair."

"Lydia's hair?"

"Trust me. In fact, maybe you should just act like you don't know anything."

Tom smiled and took her hand. "You ready to go inside?"

Lynette sighed. They'd been sitting in the car outside of Lucy's house for ten minutes now and she supposed Tom had been more than patient with her. Especially given what had happened that morning. "Okay," she agreed, fighting a sudden swell of nausea. "Fine. Let's go in."

Tom briefly squeezed her hand and then got out of the car; she opened her own door and swung her legs out while he got her crutches out of the back seat and then she traded the pie in her lap for them. "Wow," said Tom as they walked toward the front door, Lynette cursing Lucy's gravel driveway under the breath, "your sister's got a nice set-up here. What does she do again?"

"She manages a bed and breakfast about five miles from here. And Dave's a supervisor at automotive plant over in Newton."

"That's a hell of a commute."

Lynette rang the doorbell. "That's Lucy. Her convenience always comes first." The words were barely out of her mouth when the door opened. "Hi!" she greeted her sister, trying to sound more optimistic than she felt.

"Thank God you're here."

"Happy Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, yeah. Just get inside." Lucy stepped back and Lynette threw Tom a smug look before entering; this was already off to great start. "You have to get Mom out of my kitchen. What happened to you anyway? Why are you on crutches?" Lucy's gaze turned to Tom before Lynette could answer. "You must be the boyfriend. Hi, I'm Lucy."

"Tom." He shook Lucy's hand.

"Come on. Dave's in the living room watching football."

"Then why is Mom in the kitchen?"

"Oh, you'll see."

"Whoa, Lucy, wait! What does that mean?" Lynette hobbled after her sister, leaving Tom to follow, but Lucy ignored her as she led them into the living room. Like she'd said, Dave was completely immersed in a football game and, judging by the number of bottles, nursing his third beer already, but he wasn't the only one in the room. Lydia sat on the couch, embracing a man who sported a too-long goatee and wore sunglasses. "Oh God," said Lynette.

"Lydia, look who's here!" said Lucy with forced cheerfulness.

Lydia lifted her head from the shoulder of her companion and smiled. "Hey Lynette. Happy Thanksgiving."

Lynette looked to Lucy, flabbergasted, and Lucy extended a hand toward the man next to their sister. "Lynette, this is Oscar. Lydia's boyfriend. Who she just started to date. Two weeks ago."

The door that separated the living room and the dining room swung open then and Lynette's mother stormed into the room. For once Lynette was grateful to see her, as it saved her from responding to Lucy's introduction. "Oh good, you're here," her mother greeted her. She took in the crutches with a questioning look. "What the hell happened?"

"I sprained my ankle. It's not a big deal."

"Yeah," Stella agreed. "Comparatively. I mean, look what your sister dragged in." She jerked her thumb in Oscar's direction and rolled her eyes.

"Mom!"

Stella ignored Lydia. "And despite his appearance, he didn't even bring pot."

Oscar shrugged. "I didn't know it was that kind of Thanksgiving."

Lynette pinched the bridge of her nose. Of all the lousy times for Lydia to bring over one of her flings… She glanced back at Tom and was unsurprised to see that he looked like a deer caught in headlights; at least he wasn't running away. Unfortunately, her mother followed her gaze and turned her eyes on Tom. "You too, huh? Well at least he doesn't look like you found him at a Bob Marley concert."

"Mom, this is Tom," said Lucy in the tone of someone talking to a stupid child. "Lynette's boyfriend."

Tom, bless his soul, stepped forward from behind Lynette and offered his hand for Stella to shake, still holding the pie in his other hand. For a brief moment, Lynette felt a swell of pride for his bravery in the face of such utter lunacy and she thought that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. Then Tom opened his mouth. "Actually," he said, shaking Stella's hand vigorously, "we're engaged."

Lynette shut her eyes, drawing on all of the strength she had inside of her, and then plastered a smile on her face. "Surprise," she chimed in weakly.

Lydia stood. "What?"

"Lynnie, is he serious?"

Lynette nodded and held out her left hand as best she could under the limitation of the crutches; Lucy, who was nearest, reached her hand first and practically cooed at the sight of the diamond. "Oh my God!" Lucy hugged her tightly at the same time Lydia yanked at her hand, running her thumb over the ring.

"When did this happen?" demanded Lydia.

"About three weeks ago." Lynette gently peeled herself from her sisters to make sure her mother hadn't destroyed Tom where he stood. It was almost worse to see that she'd engaged him in a quiet conversation—her mother wasn't one to speak softly under any circumstances.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us!"

"Yeah, well." Lynette shrugged. "You'll be bridesmaids, won't you?"

"Of course," accepted Lucy. She elbowed Lydia, who nodded reluctantly. "Oh, this calls for champagne! Dave, go get that bottle we were saving for your mother's birthday!"

Dave obeyed without comment and Lynette glanced past Lucy's shoulder at Tom again. "What are they talking about?" she said under her breath.

Lucy and Lydia both turned to look at their mother and Tom. "Maybe he's asking Mom for permission to marry you."

"Oh that's hilarious. What did Mom do when you and Dave announced your engagement?"

"Are you crazy? I told her over the phone and then kept her and Dave apart until the rehearsal dinner."

"See, that's what I wanted to do!"

Dave reentered the room with the champagne and Lucy went to get glasses, plucking the pie from Tom's hands as she went. Fortunately the interruption seemed to end the conversation between Tom and Stella, and Tom came back to her side. "What was that about?" asked Lynette.

"What?"

"You were talking to my mother."

The cork of the champagne popped suddenly and Lucy flew back into the room, glasses held awkwardly between her fingers, chastising Dave for getting alcohol on the carpet. "I'll tell you later," said Tom, not drawing his eyes from the sight of the champagne. Lynette fought the urge to insist that later be now; the glass of champagne Lucy handed her helped.

"To Lynette and Tom," said Lucy once she'd passed out glasses to everyone. "May you be happier than Mom ever was when she was married."

Tom glanced at Lynette, clearly unsure how to interpret the toast, and she shrugged a shoulder. She'd tried to warn him.

Her mother shrugged too and raised her glass. "I'll drink to that."

Lynette followed suit, downing the drink in one gulp. Then she went back to Lucy for a second glass; after all, it was going to be a long night.


	5. Resistance

**Disclaimer: **This still isn't mine. No surprise there.

**A/n: **The last two sections I would rate as a mild M. There's nothing overly explicit, but it does get a little sexier. Feel free to skip it if that's not your cup of tea. And please let me know what you think!

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Five: Resistance**

_**A Threat**_

"Actually," said Tom, feeling no need to prolong the announcement, "we're engaged." He glanced back at Lynette and faltered for a second at the expression on her face.

"Surprise," she said weakly. Tom couldn't help but notice that her smile was forced and he tried to catch her gaze. He wanted to assure her that it would be okay, to assure himself that he hadn't made a mistake, but her sisters commanded her attention completely. Before he could completely second guess himself, Stella slapped him heartily on the arm and drew his focus back.

"So, you think you're going to marry my oldest daughter."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, Tim—"

"Tom."

"—I'm not an idiot. I'm sure Lynette's probably enthralled you with tales of her tragic childhood and that you think you have everything all figured out, but I'm going to tell you right now: if you screw with my daughter, you'll answer to me. Are we clear?"

Tom struggled to respond. He'd been wondering for quite some time how he would handle meeting Lynette's mother. In his mind, he'd pictured her as a monster of sorts; one he'd slay by being confident and intelligent and calm before he'd whisk Lynette away to some version of a happily ever after. He'd even secretly thought out a speech that confronted his deep-seeded anger over the scars that marred Lynette both physically and mentally. What he hadn't expected was for Stella to strike first, as though he was the monster and she was the one protecting Lynette.

"I love your daughter," he finally said, fancy words and grand gestures abandoning him.

"No, I love my daughter. You gave her a ring. Now prove that it means something."

Lucy interjected then, smiling brilliantly and plucking the pie that Tom had forgotten he was holding from his hands. The action broke Stella's intense gaze and Tom took the opportunity to steal away from her and back to Lynette.

"What was that about?"

Tom, who still felt off-kilter, concentrated on the champagne bottle Dave was struggling to open. "What?"

"You were talking to my mother," Lynette said incredulously.

The champagne cork popped and Tom watched as Lucy fought to get the liquid into the glasses. "I'll tell you later," he said as Lucy handed them both champagne glasses and he was surprised that she didn't argue.

"To Lynette and Tom," toasted Lucy. Of the group, she was the only one who looked happy about their engagement, though, to be fair, Oscar's face was fairly inscrutable. "May you be happier than Mom ever was when she was married."

Tom glanced at Lynette and she shrugged as her mother said, "I'll drink to that." Lynette seemed to agree, because she threw back the drink in one gulp and immediately approached Lucy for another glass. "What?" she said, sitting down on the couch and looking up at him. "I'm not driving home."

_**A Stand**_

The hour between their arrival and dinner consisted primarily of talk about the wedding, despite the fact that they hadn't planned anything yet beyond the date. Lydia remained mostly silent on the subject—only nodding her assent when Lucy insisted they look at bridal gowns the following weekend—and spent most of the time half-cuddling, half-making out with Oscar in front of everyone. As a result, most of Stella's running commentary of insulting chastisements was directed at Lydia, and by the time they sat down to dinner, the mood between the two was palpably unpleasant.

Lucy immediately set to passing food around the table, obviously eager to start the meal and possibly wane the conversation, and Tom felt no need to question her motives. If food would get the progressively drunker and more aggressive Stella to quiet down for awhile, then the faster the better. Unfortunately, Oscar didn't seem to be on the same page, and he glanced at the turkey Lydia tried to pass him disdainfully until she gave up and set it on the table.

"Aren't we going to give thanks first?"

"For what?" Stella speared a potato with her fork and dumped it on her plate.

It was hard to tell what Oscar's reaction was with his sunglasses obscuring his eyes, but his voice sounded less than pleased when he spoke again. "For the meal? For family? For life? Aren't you grateful for something?"

"I'd be grateful if you shut the hell up."

"I think it's a great idea," Lydia said loudly. She stared around the table defiantly, but Tom wasn't surprised when no one agreed with her. He got the feeling that no one took Lydia particularly seriously. Sensing that her family was just going to continue passing food, Lydia took Oscar's hand and gazed at him as though she could see his eyes through his shades. "I'm grateful that I found such a wonderful, amazing man. My love. My soul mate."

"Oh jeez, Lydia, lay off it! Some of us are trying to eat!"

"Ignore her, babe," said Oscar. He pecked Lydia on the lips. "I'm grateful for you. Especially your sexy blonde hair. Man, just the way it looks fanned out against your pillow while we're making love…It's like the hair of an angel."

Tom suppressed a laugh that became impossible to resist when he felt Lynette grip his leg, trembling with her own silent giggles. As a soft guffaw escaped his lips, Lydia glared at him and Tom took a sip of water to keep from completely cracking up. "Sorry," he said.

Lydia accepted the bowl of cranberry sauce passed to her by her sister, but didn't take her eyes off of Tom. "And what are you grateful for?" she asked, but it sounded more like a challenge and Tom debated for a moment whether or not to take her at face value. In the end, the joke was impossible to resist.

"Squirrels."

"Squirrels?" Lydia raised an eyebrow and looked from him to Lynette and back again. "Really?"

"They're nature's comedians you know."

To Tom's surprise, Dave was the one who sniggered this time—maybe more at how annoyed Lydia looked than at Tom's joke—and this unexpected response triggered something in Lynette. Her laugh bubbled out—bright and cheerful—and Tom grinned at the sound of it. "Fine!" said Lydia, standing and tossing her napkin down on the table. "Fine! I'm the big joke, as usual. Ha ha ha!"

Stella pointed her fork at her daughter and scolded, "Lydia, don't be melodramatic. It makes your face red."

Lydia grunted and stormed out of the room and after a moment Oscar slunk after her in an obligatory sort of way. At the head of the table, Dave glanced at his watch. "Half past six," he announced, "and Lydia's gone." He tipped his beer bottle toward Lucy and smiled. "You own me five bucks, Luce."

Lucy gave her husband a glare so reminiscent of Lynette that it gave Tom a moment's pause and then she turned haplessly to Lynette. "Will you go after her?"

"Me? What did I do?"

"Lynette!"

"What?"

"Come on."

To Tom's surprise, Lynette's face softened and she acquiesced. "Yeah, okay." She stood and used Tom's shoulder as support as she reached for her crutches. She squeezed him briefly before letting go. "I'll be right back."

"Don't worry, sweetie," said Lucy, patting his hand in a motherly sort of way. "It wasn't you."

Tom wasn't so sure. He felt a bit guilty for teasing Lydia when she was such an easy target, but her reactions were so over-the-top that it felt natural to give her a bit of a hard time. He did the same to his own sister at times, and she was thirteen years his senior. Still, it might not have been the best occasion to start acting like an annoying brother.

"Lydia storms out of every family dinner," said Dave. "And never for the reason you think."

"Lydia needs to grow a pair," Stella summed up succinctly. "And stop crying over every little thing. So Lynette's getting married. Who gives a damn? She's not fooling anyone with this half-assed hippie."

"Mom—don't."

Stella leaned forward, putting her elbow on the table, sloshing her drink onto the tablecloth and wagging a disapproving finger in Lucy's direction. "Remember when you got married? She brought that clown to the wedding."

"He was an accountant."

"He juggled dinner rolls at the reception."

"I'm sorry," said Tom, ignoring Dave when he shook his head sharply, "but what does our engagement have to do with Lydia leaving the room?"

"Oh don't try to analyze us, buddy," said Stella, rather nonsensically as Tom had simply asked a question. "I see you sitting there. Judging us. Like you're so superior."

"Dave," said Lucy in a pleading voice.

Dave sighed and put a firm hand over Stella's. "Okay, Stella, I think you've had enough." He tried to take the drink, but Stella pulled her hand away. As most of what remained of the drink spilled, Dave's effort wasn't entirely in vain.

"Don't! Someone has to put him in his place."

Tom looked from Dave to Lucy, unconsciously seeking an ally, but the best he got was a helpless shrug from the latter. "Look, Stella, I'm sorry if I offended you. That certainly wasn't my intention."

"What the hell does Lynette see in this joker anyway?" Stella continued speaking to Lucy as though Tom hadn't said a word.

"Mom, I'm begging you. Stop talking."

"That girl doesn't use the brains she was born with!" Stella frowned at Tom. "She was smarter than the other two combined. And the girl had sass. The only one of my kids with the balls to get something done! But then she just makes one stupid decision after another!"

Tom stood abruptly, cutting Stella off mid-rant. Her barrage of verbal abuse had been going on all night, but for her to cut down Lynette when she wasn't even in the room angered Tom in a way that was unnatural for him. He wanted to cut her down to size or storm out or both—so strong was his need to get away from her poisonous words. Beside him, Lucy made a half-hearted plea that died on her lips and then the table descended into silence, tenuously waiting for Tom to make a move.

Stella leaned back in her chair and looked up at him with a pleased expression—something almost akin to glee in her eyes. In that moment, it suddenly dawned on Tom why Lynette had been so scared that he'd leave: because that was exactly what her mother wanted him to do. From the second he'd walked into the house that night, Stella's one goal had been to drive him away. And she'd almost succeeded. Nearly sick with disgust and shaking from head to toe, Tom slowly sat back down.

"Lucy, would you pass the rolls," he asked as calmly as he could. He didn't look at Stella again.

_**A Denial**_

Tom stooped and tugged Lynette's arm over his shoulder so he could half-walk, half-carry her to the car. After she'd returned from her talk with Lydia—who she apparently hadn't been able to convince to come back—she'd drank generously through the rest of dinner. Though she kept vigorously insisting that she wasn't drunk, she hadn't been able to maneuver her crutches, leaving Tom as her only means of support.

"Come on," he said. He had to resist the urge to pick her up and carry her as his first attempt had had her strenuously threatening to walk herself. Lynette obliged him now by limping, stumbling and laughing all the way to the car, where Lucy opened the door and Tom helped her inside.

"Come back soon," said Lucy, hugging him after he shut the door. "Some time that Mom isn't here."

Tom chuckled half-heartedly. Dinner had been about as close to a disaster as could be and now he had to take care of his intoxicated fiancé on top of it. A repeat performance wasn't something he wanted any time soon. Still, good manners won out, and he said, "Okay. Thanks for dinner."

"My pleasure."

Tom climbed into the car as Lucy headed back toward her house. Lynette had reclined her seat and had her eyes lifted upwards, as though she could see the sky through the roof of the car. "Okay, Drunky." Tom shook his head at her and turned on the car. "Let's get you home."

"I'm not so drunk."

"You're not so sober."

"Yeah. That too." Lynette giggled. "I think it might have been the wine."

"Oh really? What gave you that idea?"

Lynette rolled her head toward him, but Tom only spared her a glance before turning back to the road. "You're mad," she said suddenly.

"No."

"Yeah. At me?"

"Lynette, I'm not mad. I'm just tired."

"That's because this night sucked." Lynette blew out a long breath. "And it wasn't even because of my mother. Why does she have to be such a baby?"

It took Tom a moment to follow Lynette's chain of thoughts—particularly because for him the worst part by far and away had been her mother—and he asked, "Who, Lydia?"

"She's jealous."

"Of who?"

"Me! Because I have you and she doesn't have a you even though she's trying to pretend Oscar is a you, you know?"

Tom shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That's okay. 'Cause I know what I mean." Lynette unbuckled her seatbelt and slid closer to him, somehow not deterred by the emergency break that separated them.

"What are you doing? Lynette?"

"You still look mad."

"Lynette—"

"I have a cure for that." Lynette slouched down, ducking under his arm and resting her chin on his thigh. Her hands went straight to his fly and she clumsily began to work to unbutton his pants.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell are you doing?"

Lynette didn't answer, successfully opening his pants and reaching her hand inside to coax him out. Tom gripped the steering wheel as he felt the cool air of the car hit him at the same time as Lynette's warm breath, and then she awkwardly took him into her mouth.

"Oh my God! Are you crazy?"

Lynette was too busy to answer, and even though she didn't have a great range of motion or easy access, she was sucking him hard and determinedly. That, combined with the inappropriateness of their whereabouts, was too much for Tom to resist, and before long he climaxed, barely able to keep the car straight and steady. Not bothering to tuck him back in or fasten his pants, Lynette righted herself with a self-satisfied grin. She ran a finger over his ear and traced his profile. "There," she said. "Now don't you feel better?"

_**A Surrender**_

Tom placed his hands over the backs of Lynette's and twisted his fingers through hers before hugging her. Responding languidly, she leaned her head back, pressed a kiss to his neck and then purred contentedly. She'd sobered up considerably in the two hours since they'd left her sister's, but her amorous mood hadn't waned and she'd quickly been able to charm him into the bathtub with her. "This is nice," she said quietly.

Tom nodded. For a day that had been all-around terrible, Lynette had salvaged the evening quite brilliantly. "One of your best ideas."

"Mm." Lynette tilted her neck away from him and he pressed a succession of kisses against her exposed skin. "So," she said, humming a little as he reached a particularly sensitive area, "what exactly did my mother say to you?"

"Do we have to talk about your mother now?"

"You promised me 'later.' If I wait much longer we're going to be in the middle of sex, and I don't think either of us want to think about my mother then."

Tom moved their still-entangled hands up Lynette's body to her breasts, pressing her own hands firmly against her, and then he bit the rim of her ear. "Did I mention how grateful I am to be getting it regularly from a sexy blonde?"

"Hmm," said Lynette. "That doesn't sound nearly as ridiculous when you say it."

"Good." He dropped his mouth to her shoulder and paid it the same attention he'd paid her neck.

Lynette squirmed for a minute, but he didn't manage to deter her from her mission. "Was it that bad?"

"What?"

"What my mother said."

Tom nuzzled her shoulder with his nose, not wanting to give in any more than Lynette did. "She just wanted to give me a warning."

"A warning?"

"Not to hurt you." Tom kissed her temple. "She just doesn't want to see you heartbroken."

"That doesn't sound like her."

"What can I say? I'm telling the truth." Tom trailed their right hands down her body and pressed their joined fingers against her; she arched her back in response.

"Okay! Okay, you win! I surrender," she said, almost hissing the last two words as he began moving their fingers in a circular motion. He grinned and kissed the top of her head.

"It's about time."


	6. Delights

**Disclaimer: **How little things change in a day. I still own nothing.

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Six: Delights**

_**Morning**_

Tom was whistling.

In a better mood, Lynette supposed she might take it as a compliment of her sexual prowess, as Tom rarely woke up so cheerfully, but this morning she was exhausted. Probably she shouldn't have stayed up so late having sex when she hadn't slept well the night before, but it had been impossible to resist Tom wet and naked in the bathtub. And even more difficult when he'd started to carry her to the bedroom and pinned her against the bathroom door. But definitely she shouldn't have indulged that third time when they actually finally made it to bed even if he had made her…scream. Twice.

Tom began to mix in a little singing between his whistling and Lynette groaned and squirmed under the covers, completely covering her head and curling into a tight ball. If this was how he was going to punish her for hot, crazy, mind-blowing sex then he was never getting any again. Ever.

His hands settled on her hip and shoulder and he shook her a little. "Wake up, sleepyhead!"

_Ever_.

"Go away!"

"Nope. Time to get up. The joys of joint checking and savings accounts await us."

"I'll just give you all my money if you let me sleep."

The covers lifted and Tom wriggled under the sheets into her cocoon. She stubbornly kept her back to him and her eyes closed. "Time to get u-u-u-p," Tom sang-song to her. His finger brushed her ear, trailed down the back of her neck, circled around her ribcage and settled on her hip. "Let's go."

Lynette groaned, not meaning it as an assent, but Tom took it as one. He ripped the covers off of their heads and the sunlight greeted her rudely. Finally she rolled over and glared at him, annoyed when it only made his smile grow. "Well, it's about time I saw those pretty blue eyes of yours. Good morning, sunshine." He kissed her and then climbed back out of bed. "Get up, or I"ll be back," he threatened happily. Then he lightly slapped her ass a couple of times and nearly skipped out of the room.

"I kind of hate you right now!" she yelled after him.

"Keep up that attitude and I'm not putting strawberries on your waffles!"

_**Evening**_

In her ideal world, Lynette had planned to be home before Tom in order to cook a lovely, romantic dinner and surprise him after his first day at his new job. She'd imagined how nice it would be to see his eyes light up and to sit around chatting about their days. In a way, this was the first day of a new life for them—one of separate offices and separate people and separate stories—one that would gradually become routine. But that first night, she'd wanted to do something special.

In reality, she'd gone to the doctor's at eight in the morning and because it was perpetually impossible to get in and out of the doctor's office on schedule, she ended up over an hour late for work. Things had gone downhill from there as Tom's replacement wasn't half the worker Tom was and Lynette found herself more and more frustrated by his ineptitude as the day went on. In the end, she didn't leave the office until seven, and even the freedom of finally walking without crutches wasn't enough to raise her rankled, disappointed spirits.

Lynette let herself into her apartment, already resolving to try again the following night, but her thoughts stopped short when her gaze reached her coffee table. The table had been set for dinner, complete with wine, candles and flowers—everything Lynette had imagined and more. Shocked, she dropped her briefcase to the floor and walked to the table, admiring Tom's aesthetic work.

"Oh hi. I thought I heard you come in." Lynette looked up at Tom's greeting; she hadn't even heard him come in from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready. Nothing too special—just pizza. I didn't have time for anything more elaborate."

"You made dinner for me," she said dimly. Tom didn't hear her; he'd disappeared back to the kitchen to get their dinner. Lynette shrugged out of her coat and tossed it over a chair before settling down on the couch and pouring wine for both of them. A moment later, Tom returned with the pizza, setting it on a towel on the floor as there was no spare room on the coffee table.

"The crutches are gone, I see," he said. He smiled and dropped down on the couch beside her. "Doctor approved this time?"

"Yes." Lynette took hold of his tie and tugged him toward her, kissing him briefly. "Thank you for this."

"No problem."

_**Afternoon**_

"Oh, how about this one, Lynnie?"

Lynette frowned at the big, poofy princess dress Lucy was holding. It was eerily similar to the one Lucy had worn at her own wedding, though Lynette didn't remember hating it as much two years ago as she did now. "I'm looking for something a little simpler," she said.

"Simpler? There's already no lace. How much simpler do you want to go?"

The consultant stepped in before Lynette could answer, talking Lucy's ear off about elegance of clean lines and interesting necklines, and it allowed Lynette the opportunity to steal away from her sister. She loved Lucy for a lot of reasons, but being a good shopping partner was not one of them. Lydia was usually good about diffusing the tension in these situations, but after their argument at Thanksgiving she'd refused to come. If Lynette had abandonment issues, Lydia's were tenfold, and nothing Lynette had said to her at dinner had convinced Lydia that her impending marriage wasn't a personal vendetta to leave her sister a lonely, easy target for their mother.

In her lone perusal, Lynette found two more gowns to try on, but her separation came with a price: by the time she rejoined her sister, Lucy had managed to find three more over-the-top gowns that neither Lynette nor the consultant could convince her to abandon. Resigned, Lynette retired to the fitting room with twelve dresses, overwhelmed by the sea of white.

"So when are you two moving in together?" she heard Lydia ask from outside. Lynette gasped at the consultant abruptly pulled the too-big dress tighter and clipped it in the back.

"Tom's lease is up at the end of the month. He's going to move into our new place and then I'll move in when my lease is up at the end of January."

"You found a new place already?"

"We're subletting from a friend of Tom's. He's going to Australia for a year and the place is a steal. It's half the size of my place now."

The curtain suddenly whipped open and Lucy stuck her head in. "Are you insane?" she asked. "You're moving into a smaller place?"

"We want to save up enough to put a decent down payment on a house. What's the big deal? It'll be a year, tops."

Lucy shook her head pityingly; it was incredibly obnoxious coming from her younger sister. "Dave and I moved into that big house together from the start and we were still tripping all over each other for the first few months. You and Tom will kill each other."

"Okay, Miss Melodrama."

"I'm being realistic. Your rent isn't that high, is it? Just have Tom move into your place."

Lynette laughed. "This isn't a discussion, it's already set. We signed the papers last weekend."

"Oh, Lynette…"

"My husband and I moved into a two room apartment when we were first married," the consultant said suddenly. "Within three months I moved in with my sister."

Lucy nodded emphatically. "See? And you probably ended up divorced. It always ends in tragedy."

"No, actually, staying with my sister was worse. I was back home within two weeks. After that things improved considerably."

"I'll remember that if things ever go south," said Lynette. Lucy scowled and then finally looked her up and down appraisingly.

"I don't like that dress."

Lynette turned and examined herself in the small dressing room mirror while the consultant tittered about the importance of looking in the big mirror out on the floor instead, but she unfortunately agreed with Lucy. The cut made her breasts look non-existent and the train was too long. To the consultant's chagrin, Lynette insisted on moving on.

One of Lucy's picks was next and Lynette quickly vetoed that too, though she did step out of the fitting room long enough to allow Lucy the satisfaction of gasping in delight. Five more dresses followed, only one of which Lynette would have remotely considered, and by the eighth dress Lynette was about fed up. The consultant seemed to sense her frustration, and she finished adjusting the dress quickly. "You're going to love this one," she said, though she'd said that about the last four as well. Lynette hiked up the skirt impatiently, exiting the fitting room and making her way over to the large collection of mirrors. "Oh, Lynette," said Lucy before Lynette even let the skirt drop.

"You look beautiful," said the consultant, and even though she'd said this about the last four dresses too, Lynette finally found herself in agreement. The neckline was interesting without being too high or too low, the bodice fitted and the skirt—while much fuller than Lynette ever thought she'd like—was elegant in the way it cascaded down to the floor. Lynette blinked back the sting of tears in her eyes and she knew, in that gut-wrenching, intuitive way she always made her best decisions, that this was the dress.

"This is the one."

The consultant looked startled by Lynette's sudden proclamation, but Lucy clapped her hands together excitedly. "It's perfect," she said. "Tom is going to melt when he sees you in it."

Lynette smiled. "You think?"

"Without a doubt."


	7. Surprises

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim to _Desperate Housewives_, which I'm sure you all know by now.

**A/n: **I'd just like to extend my thanks again to everyone who has reviewed. You guys have been great and I really appreciate the comments. Please keep them coming!

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Seven: Surprises**

_**Visit**_

Lynette took a sip of water before setting down her glass on the nightstand and jumping back on the bed. She'd been unable to sit still since she'd come home from the bridal shop, and now she shifted again so she knelt with her feet curled beneath her. Tom trailed a hand through her hair and down to her shoulder where he started to pull down her bra strap, but she pulled away from him.

"What?"

"Our dinner is going to be here soon. You can wait a little while."

"Then maybe you shouldn't be walking around in your bra and panties."

Lynette shrugged, taking another drink of water and smiling playfully. It was almost annoying how much pleasure she took in teasing him, and Tom made a mental note to make her pay for it later. "Why are you in such a good mood anyway?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you?"

"You got home and dragged me in here to have your way with me. As I recall, there wasn't much talking involved."

"And you enjoyed every minute of it."

"I'm not denying that."

Lynette smiled. "I bought a dress today."

"Really? That fast?"

She nodded. "I put it on and I just knew."

"Are you even supposed to tell me you got a dress? I thought that was bad luck."

"That's seeing the dress before the wedding. And that's an old wives' tale anyway."

"Oh, so I do get to see it before the big day?" Tom waggled his eyebrows and smirked when Lynette rolled her eyes. A knock on the door interrupted whatever she meant to say next. "Hold that thought," he said with a smile. "I'll go get the food."

Tom gave her a number of quick kisses until she giggled and batted him away. He paused only long enough to fish his wallet out of his pants pocket and hurried to the door, whistling as he went. Unfortunately, a quick glance into his wallet revealed only seven dollars and a discount coupon for a car wash that he'd found tacked to his windshield. "Hey, hon, where's your purse? I don't have enough cash!" he called as he opened the door. Lynette yelled something back to him, but as Tom saw that their interruption was not, in fact, the Chinese food they'd ordered, he tuned her out. "Oh my God! Mom. Dad. What are you doing here?"

"Is this a bad time? It looks like a bad time."

His mother frowned. "The boy is in his boxer shorts at six o'clock. Of course it's a bad time, Rodney. I told you we should have called."

"What's life without the element of surprise?"

Tom shifted awkwardly and interjected before they got into a full-out debate. "Uh, do you guys want to come in?"

His father clapped him on the shoulder and stepped inside, but his mother held back for a moment, hesitant. "Are you sure? I mean, isn't Lynette—"

Her uncertainty proved to be well-founded, for at that moment, he heard Lynette's voice, clear as a bell and definitely closer than the bedroom. "Tom! Did you find my purse?"

"Hey, sweetie, don't—" But that was as far as he got before Lynette walked into the living room wearing nothing but his button down shirt—only fastened halfway—and her bra.

"Oh my God!" she said, pulling the top of the shirt closed around her. His father looked to his mother, amused, but Allison just shut her eyes, most likely praying for strength.

"Lynette, honey," said Tom slowly and soothingly. "These are my parents. Rodney and Allison."

"Nice to meet you," said Rodney, holding out a hand that Lynette reluctantly shook. She laughed nervously.

"Tom," she said with a smile so forced it frightened him, "can I see you in the bedroom for a second? Excuse us." Lynette turned and went back to the bedroom without waiting for anyone else to respond and Tom shrugged helplessly at his parents.

"We'll be right back. Make yourselves at home."

Tom hurried down the hall to the bedroom and shut the door tightly behind him, though it was likely to do little good. When Lynette was upset she was loud and there was no way to turn down her volume. "What the hell are your parents doing here?" she demanded.

"I have no idea."

"You didn't know about this?"

"Don't you think I would have put on pants if I'd known about this? They just showed up!"

Lynette ran her hands through her hair and let out an exasperated sigh. "Just once I would like to meet a member of your family wearing more than my bra!"

"Well my grandmother will appreciate that."

"This isn't funny, Tom! They're going to think I'm a slut."

"No they're not."

"Tom!"

"Lynette, calm down. You're going to put on some clothes and be your wonderful self and after a decade or two whizzes by I'm sure my mother will forget all about this."

Lynette groaned and collapsed backwards on the bed.

_**Generosity**_

Forty minutes later, the Chinese food was in the fridge, Tom and Lynette were both fully clothed, and they were sitting with his parents in a restaurant that had a separate wine list. Lynette still seemed tense, and Tom wasn't entirely sure if it was simply because of the earlier mishap or if it was the fact that they were out to dinner with his parents. Either way, she sported a smile that wasn't entirely natural and it made him feel as anxious as she looked.

"Please, please don't blurt out the fact that we're engaged like you did at Thanksgiving," she'd pleaded on the drive to the restaurant. Having learned that lesson the hard way, Tom had sincerely agreed; giving his parents a meal to get to know Lynette first seemed like a far better idea than how he'd handled her family.

"Well, this is lovely," said Allison, clearly trying to make the best of an awkward situation. "This is a nice restaurant. I'm glad Shawn recommended it."

"Shawn recommended this place?"

"Now, Tom, don't make that face. Shawn is a perfectly good man."

"Shawn is an idiot," said Rodney. "He told me today that he's going horseback riding bareback next weekend. Tell me what man in his right mind would do that?"

"When did you get into town?" asked Tom incredulously. His parents lived nearly three hours away; it was hard to believe they'd planned this trip so spontaneously.

"Thursday night. We've been staying with Christa."

"So what? Christa knew you were coming?"

"Well of course."

"Of course." Tom turned to Lynette and repeated the words again. "Of course."

Seeming to sense that he was vamping up into a rant about his family's lack of communication skills, Lynette interceded. "How long will you be in town?"

"We're going home tomorrow. Rodney is leaving for a conference in Denver Monday morning."

"Oh. Do you travel a lot, Rodney?"

"Constantly. It's my lot in life." He leaned back and put an arm around Allison's chair, smiling heartily. "God, you two are going to have gorgeous kids."

"Rodney!"

"Dad!"

Lynette, who had just taken a sip of wine, started to choke, coughing and sputtering, and Tom patted her back soothingly.

"Jeez, sorry about that," said Rodney. "I didn't mean to catch you off-guard there."

Tom shot his father a dirty look even as Lynette held up a conciliatory hand. "That's okay," she said, still coughing on the words. She took a drink of water and glanced at Tom.

"Maybe we should stick to safer subjects," suggested Tom pointedly. "Work. Travel. The weather."

"Hey, I said I'm sorry. I'm just a little excited here—"

"Rodney…"

"—It's not every day that my only son gets engaged."

Lynette's eyes widened and Tom set down his salad fork with a slight clatter. "How did you…" He trailed off and rolled his eyes. "Christa. Right. Of course."

"Shawn, actually," said Allison wearily.

"Hey, bud, don't be mad at your sister. She was only doing you a favor."

"A favor?"

Allison sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose—another telltale sign that she was in the middle of asking God for some sort of willpower. Tom was convinced it was the only way she'd managed to stay married to his father for so many years. "Rodney, we agreed that we'd wait until the end of the meal."

"I don't want to wait. This is exciting! We should be celebrating!" He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope, passing it across the table to Lynette. "Open it," he said encouragingly.

Lynette looked at Tom, who shrugged, and she opened the envelope. Tom leaned closer when she gasped and saw that she'd pulled out a check for ten thousand dollars. "Oh my God. What…Dad, what is this?"

"It's our contribution to the wedding! Congratulations!"

"Oh, Rodney, Allison," Lynette said almost breathlessly. "You didn't have to do this."

"Yeah, you guys, this is way too generous."

Allison smiled. "Christa told us how much you liked that banquet hall. We thought maybe you could use this to pay for that."

"But Mom…ten thousand…"

"The only joy of living frugally while you're young," said Rodney in a suddenly serious tone, "is being able to spend when you're old. Now don't argue with us."

Lynette set the check on the table and rose, going around to hug each of his parents with teary eyes. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, darling."

"It's our pleasure."

_**Advice**_

Tom stepped out into the cool December night air after his father and immediately buried his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill. Lynette had ventured to the bathroom with his mother after they'd paid the bill, but Tom was glad to get out of the stuffy restaurant and enjoy the fresh air for a few minutes. His father had followed him out and stood now, stretching his neck so it cracked with little popping sounds.

"Are you sure about the money, Dad?" Tom asked spontaneously. His parents were comfortable, but not really living beyond their means, and he wanted to be sure.

"Hey, we're happy to do it. We gave Christa the same when she got married." Rodney shrugged. "Of course, that money went a lot further fifteen years ago than it will now."

"Well thanks. It means more than you know."

Rodney clapped Tom's shoulder in a way that suggested a comradeship and shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "What's that look?" asked Tom with a laugh.

"Nothing. I just can't believe you're getting married. You could have picked me up off the floor when Shawn told us."

"Well, thanks to Shawn, I can only imagine."

"Ah, don't hold it against the poor bastard. He thought we knew." His dad laughed a little. "Actually, I'm kind of surprised you didn't call us as soon as she said yes. You're not having some doubts, are you?"

"No. No, not at all. Trust me, Dad. Lynette is the one."

Rodney smiled and shook his head. "Now, see, son, that's the kind of thinking that's going to get you in trouble. There's no such thing as 'the one.' If you realize that now you won't be disappointed down the road."

"Thanks for that inspirational speech, Dad." Tom shifted his weight from one foot to the other and tried to keep his temper under control. He didn't really want the unsolicited advice, especially from the man who'd been cheating on his mother since the late seventies.

"Look, I don't want to upset you, Tommy, but marriage isn't exactly a natural way to live. You're tying yourself to this girl for the rest of your life. And I don't want to tell you what to do, but there are some hard questions you should really ask yourself before you get married."

"Like…?"

"Like does she have a lot of little habits that drive you crazy? You know, like being anal retentive about organizing your socks or never sleeping with the window open or picking at her teeth after she eats. Little things like that seem like an inconvenience now, but they can wear you down after so many years."

"I don't—"

"Or does she expect you to change? Women do that all the time—say they love you for who you are and then the second you commit they want to change everything about you."

Tom clenched his fists inside of his coat pockets and took a deep breath. "Dad, stop, okay? Just stop."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Oh yeah? Did you help Christa out this way before she married Shawn?"

Rodney waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, it's different with girls. They know what they want."

"And I know what I want."

"Don't get me wrong, Lynette seems like a sweet girl. I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into."

Tom sighed. "And I appreciate the thought; really, I do. But honestly? You're the last person I'd ever to go for advice on this."

"Why? You think I don't know what I'm talking about?"

"A few months ago, yeah, maybe I would have taken you seriously. There were a few times I almost threw in the towel because I just kept thinking, 'Look at Dad. You'd end up just like him.' But since I've been with Lynette, I've realized something."

His dad snorted derisively. "What? True love and soul mates do exist?"

"I realized that you and I are completely different people and we have completely different views on life. And I'm not going to end up like you because I'm not you, Dad."

"Oh, come on, Tom."

"You've said it to me yourself, more than once: I take after Mom. And Mom, if nothing else, is a person who commits. Forever."

Rodney rolled his eyes and blustered for a few moments, clearly trying to come up with something to refute the statement. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was someone anointing Allison to sainthood and treating him like the bad guy. Tom had learned long ago that that wasn't how his father saw the situation, and, fact or fiction, there was no arguing this point with him. "So you say you won't cheat on your wife. Big deal. It goes both ways, son."

"Well that's the best part. Because Lynette isn't you either."

His father very obviously wanted to continue to debate him, but at that moment the doors to the restaurant opened and Lynette came out with his mom, smiling broadly and looking much more relaxed than she had at the start of the evening. She greeted him with a kiss and then linked her arm through his. "Your mom was just telling me about the envelope collection you had as a kid. Did you really keep them in a special box and put all your drawings inside them?"

"He did," his mother said before he could deny this. "We got him a whole carton of them for his fifth birthday. He was obsessed."

"Gee, thanks for telling her that story, Mom."

Lynette pinched his cheek, her eyes dancing mischievously. "Weren't you just the cutest kid ever. I can't wait to see pictures."

Tom groaned good-naturedly, making his mother and Lynette laugh. As they continued to chat, he caught his father's eye, and, though he still looked pensive, he gave a small nod of acceptance. Tom knew then that they wouldn't have this conversation again.


	8. Comfort and Joy

**Disclaimer: **So not mine it's not funny.

**A/n: **The last section is rated M again for mild sexual content. Enjoy or feel free to skip.

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Eight: Comfort and Joy**

_**Parties**_

After reserving the room in Fraser Hall for March eighth, Lynette was forced to put wedding plans on the back-burner for the rest of December. Between work and slowly packing up Tom's belongings—a third of which they had to find a storage space for and another third of which she had had to convince him they would never need in any future home they might have—and the upcoming holiday season, there hadn't been much time for anything, let alone planning the wedding. As it stood, when she discovered their company Christmas parties fell on the same day, Lynette was slightly disappointed when Tom suggested they each go to their own. She'd been looking forward to doing something fun together and, if she was honest, she'd also really wanted to see Tom's new office.

"It just makes more sense," he'd explained. "I'm still trying to get to know everyone and you're gunning for that promotion. This way neither of us misses out."

The logic worked at the time, but now that Lynette was sitting under the florescent lights, surrounded by half-ass decorations and watching Anderson get increasingly handsy with the receptionist while his wife was just across the room, Lynette had second thoughts. Even if she didn't know anyone where Tom worked, even if his party was more contrived than hers was, it would still be more tolerable together than apart. Mind made up, Lynette slipped away to her office to get her coat and then quietly made her way to the elevator.

The office of the Peterson firm was a twenty minute drive in traffic, but Lynette made it in fifteen, shedding her suit jacket and letting down her hair before she got out of the car. The building that housed the office was only three stories, so Lynette took the stairs to the second floor, able to hear the music and laughter the moment she opened the door to the floor. Finding the receptionist blessedly absent, Lynette was able to slip into the office undetected and she scanned the party for a sign of her fiancé. She finally spotted him talking to two other men—one tall and heavyset and the other utterly average—and she made her way across the room. The average-looking man spotted her first and as he stared at her, Tom turned and his eyes widened when he noticed her.

"Hey," she said, coming toward him with a bright smile.

"Hey." He kissed her briefly and let a hand drop to the small of her back. "What are you doing here?"

"My party was boring so I thought I'd stop by and see how yours is going."

Tom smiled tightly and Lynette suddenly got the uncomfortable impression that he wasn't happy to see her. She shrugged it off and turned to the other men, sticking her hand out to the taller one first. "Hi, I'm Lynette Lindquist," she introduced herself. "Tom's fiancé."

"Mark Bello."

"Randy George."

"Nice to meet you." Neither man returned the sentiment, simply staring at her until she was struck by an unusual wave of self-consciousness. Finally, Tom broke the silence, excusing them from his co-workers and guiding her swiftly into the break room where only a few people had congregated. "Do I have a third eyeball growing out of my forehead or something?" she asked in a low tone. "What's going on?"

"The party is employees only. Apparently it's not usually, but Peterson's wife is in the hospital and it's kind of a 'if he can't have it, no one can' logic."

"You didn't tell me that!"

"I didn't think I needed to; you weren't supposed to be here."

Lynette took a deep breath, forcing herself to control her volume. "Well I wouldn't have come if I had known. I was just trying to surprise you." Lynette glanced over at the other employees and shifted uncomfortably. "Can't we go talk in your office?"

Tom sighed. "I don't have an office."

"What do you mean you don't have an office?"

"I mean that one of those desks out there is mine; I share the space with three other people."

"Tom—"

"Sweetie, I promise, I'll stay another thirty minutes, tops, and then why don't I meet you somewhere for dinner? We can talk then."

If Lynette hadn't felt so off-balance by the whole situation she might have stayed and demanded an explanation, but instead she just gave him a slightly dazed nod, agreed to a meeting place and left the way she came in.

_**Confessions**_

Lynette was halfway through her second beer and picking at an appetizer platter she'd ordered when Tom finally sat down across from her in the booth. He'd shed his jacket and tie, but he still looked almost coldly professional with his hands clasped in front of him on the table. They stared at one another for a moment, and then Lynette handed him her beer and something in him finally relaxed.

"You want to tell me what's going on now or should I have a couple more drinks in me first?" she asked.

"What are you so upset about? I'm the one who should be upset. You just showed up out of the blue."

"Well that's exactly it, Tom. Why should that matter? If you had told me that it was employees only and I still came then I could understand, but you didn't. I think you're upset because there's something about this job that you haven't told me yet and now you have to. So spill it. What's going on?"

Tom gave a beleaguered sigh and slouched down in the booth. "Look, you have to understand, Peterson has kind of an odd way of doing things and he's been under a lot of stress. His wife was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer back in September and she's been in the hospital for almost three months now."

"That's horrible."

"Yeah. The good news is that she's been doing better lately. The doctors are giving her better odds than they were before. She and Peterson started the firm together; they've been working together since before they were married. So he's been kind of a wreck without her." Tom downed the rest of the beer and set the bottle on the table, running a hand through his hair nervously. "Look, the point is that Peterson hired four of us around the same time: me, Marc, this woman Molly and another guy named Fred. When he hired us, he let us know right up front that two of the positions were temporary. One to cover a woman who decided to take a year-long maternity sabbatical and one to cover his wife while she's out sick. He's going to decide who's temporary and who's permanent based on our work performances over the next few months."

"So what you're saying is…what? You might be out of a job in six months?"

"Possibly."

Lynette shook her head in disbelief. "And you knew this going in?"

"Yes."

"Tom, of all the risky, stupid things to do—"

"So I took a chance! What's wrong with taking chances sometimes?"

"We're in the middle of paying for a wedding and trying to save up for a house."

"I didn't know we were going to be doing that when I took this job. Don't act like I'm being irresponsible."

Lynette groaned and sat back in the booth, crossing her arms. "Fine. Fine. I can accept that you didn't know then, but why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd try to talk me out of it. You'd get that look you always get when you think you know what's best for me and you'd tell me not to do it."

Lynette let the comment slide in order to get to the point. "But after you took the job…after you proposed…Tom, it's been over a month!"

Tom picked up a cheese stick off the platter and then threw it down contemptuously, obviously annoyed that she was right and he was wrong. This didn't give her the satisfaction it usually did. "I was just hoping it would all work out and you'd never have to be any wiser," he confessed. Slowly he drew his eyes up to meet hers again and gave a half-hearted shrug. "I didn't want to sit around doing nothing while you skyrocket ahead of me. I don't want you to find yourself thinking someday, 'God, how did I end up with this loser?'"

"That would never happen. You are a wonderful, amazing man. I'm not with you because of what job you do or don't have."

"Still," said Tom, though she could tell by the look in his eyes that her words had some kind of impact, "I feel like this is my last chance."

"Your last chance? Tom, you're not even thirty yet. You have years ahead of you and the talent to get anywhere you want. Maybe you'll see that when you get this job."

"You mean if."

"No," she said firmly, reaching across the table and grasping his hand, "I mean when."

Tom ran his thumb over her hand and then gently squeezed. "Thanks."

_**Rejoicing**_

The last week before Christmas was a series of harried fourteen hour work days for Lynette and every night she came home exhausted. Tom was putting in longer days too, but in comparison he seemed downright cheerful. She attributed this to the fact that she now knew the truth about his job; with everything out on the table, Tom felt freer to discuss his work day and there was a noticeable difference in the quality of information. So much so that Lynette felt a bit embarrassed that she hadn't picked up on the obvious gaps sooner. But as it stood, Christmas day came as a welcome break from the chaos of her life. Tom had been adamant about spending the day sans family and Lynette had only been too happy to agree.

They slept in that morning, the only indication of their usual wake-up time being when Lynette's internal clock woke her and she sat up in a brief moment of panic before remembering they had the day off. Her movement woke Tom, but only long enough for him to wrap his arms around her and pull her flush against his chest, and within a couple minutes they were both sound asleep again.

The next time she woke it was to Tom pressing light kisses along the back her neck and shoulder, not unusually, ready to start the day with sex. He seemed to sense the moment she was no longer asleep, and his kisses became more insistent as his hand trailed up her stomach to her breast. She smiled into her pillow, just enjoying the feel of his touch and the warmth of his lips. Already she could feel him stiff, pressing into her back, and she reveled in the knowledge that he was that turned on by her presence alone.

"I know you're awake," Tom mumbled against her skin. He ran his hand down her body and started to tug down her pajama pants, undeterred by the difficulty of this act while she was lying on her side. "Stop teasing and let me have my Christmas present now."

"It's under the tree," Lynette finally spoke. "Do you want me to go get it?" She made a pathetic move to leave the bed and Tom held her in place.

"No, no, no. That's not nice." He managed to tug down her pants, but didn't even bother to remove them, only going as far as her knees. She started to roll over to help him out, but he settled a warm hand on her bare hip and nipped at the sensitive skin where her neck curved to her shoulder, effectively halting her movement. She felt him take off his own pants and a moment later he pressed directly against her from behind, spooning her as he had before. Unable to sit idly by any longer, Lynette wriggled her pants the rest of the way down her legs and pressed her ass firmly against him.

The next couple of minutes consisted of awkward contortions that paid off when Tom pushed into her from behind. The unusual position made him feel even fuller inside of her and she fought to catch her breath. He began to move, gradually working his way to a quicker rhythm and Lynette's mind went mercifully blank—aware only of her own pleasure and his; the feel of him and the sensations of their lovemaking.

Afterward, Tom fell back on the bed and Lynette finally rolled over to look at him, pushing her hair off of her sweaty forehead with a shaky hand. Tom looked at her, somewhat smug, and smiled. "Merry Christmas," he said.

"Oh, without a doubt."

Tom laughed, pulled her close to him again, and gave her a joyful kiss.


	9. Lost in Translation

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Desperate Housewives_. Surprise, surprise.

**A/n: **Just as a head's up, when I post chapter 10 I'm going to bump the rating to M. There's turning out to be more sex in this than I planned. Life's funny like that. In this chapter only the final section is rated M, so beware of that if it's not your thing. Thanks again for the reviews!

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Nine: Lost in Translation**

_**Miscommunication**_

Tom pulled a sweatshirt over his head and wriggled his feet into his tennis shoes at the same time. He felt ridiculous being awake so early on a Sunday, but Charlie had called late the night before to ask if they could move up their meeting time for the move that day and Tom would be damned if he had to call Shawn to replace his friend. As it was, the trailer rental place was clear across town and if Tom was going to make it there and then to his apartment by nine, he had to get moving.

He glanced at Lynette, who had promptly rolled into the middle of the bed as soon as he'd vacated his side, and leaned over her prone form, one hand braced on the headboard and the other lain on the small of her back. "Hey, sweetie," he said gently. "I'm heading out." Lynette gave an indistinguishable grunt of acknowledgement and Tom kissed the top of her head. "I'll see you at nine." To that, Lynette gave no response, but Tom just smiled and rubbed her back for a second before leaving her be. Without another word, he dug her birthday card and present out of his sock drawer and set them on the dresser where she was sure to find them before heading out.

The morning went more smoothly than Tom expected. There was little traffic and he made it to his apartment with time to spare and Charlie, early as usual, was already there with coffee. Inside he found that the boxes were all stacked in the living room, and he realized that while Lynette was off of work on Friday she must have come over and buzzed through the apartment in some fit of organization. In any case, it made the entire process easier and Tom said a grateful prayer for her common sense.

It wasn't until after the fourth trip down to the trailer that Charlie remarked on Lynette's absence and it wasn't until after the ninth trip that Tom started to get a little worried. Lynette, like him, could be a little harried in the morning, but she wasn't usually late. Finally, around ten o'clock, he borrowed Charlie's cell phone to call her, but he was only halfway through dialing when she walked through the open door, looking around at the nearly-empty apartment curiously. Tom tossed the phone on his recliner chair—the only piece of furniture left in the room—and walked over to greet her.

"Happy birthday, beautiful." Tom kissed her and tugged playfully on her ponytail. "You're late."

"We agreed ten o'clock." Lynette glanced at her watch. "It's ten now."

"I told you last night that Charlie has to be at Veronica's parents' at one for lunch. We bumped back the time to nine."

"You never told me that."

Tom opened his mouth to argue and then thought better of it; it was her birthday, after all, and she was spending most of the day helping him move. "Fine," he said, and with a frown she seemed to realize he was only acquiescing, not admitting he was wrong. "We almost have everything in the trailer already. We'll be ready to go in another twenty minutes."

Lynette glanced around the room. All that remained were a few boxes and the chair, over which they'd argued for quite some time. Lynette had wanted to put in storage but Tom had insisted would fit in the new place. She'd eventually given in, but Tom wasn't convinced the victory was more than temporary until she moved in as well.

"Hey Lynette," greeted Charlie as he passed her with three boxes balanced in his hands. "Sleeping in on the job?"

Lynette made a face Tom had come to realize meant she was gearing up for a fight and he preemptively struck. "Okay!" he said loudly, clapping his hands together before Lynette could say anything. "Why don't we get these last few boxes downstairs and then Charlie and I can come back for the chair." He picked up a box labeled "bathroom stuff" and handed it to Lynette, who now looked more cross than ever. "Come on, cheer up. You're going to get to spend the whole afternoon arranging the apartment and then we're going out for an amazingly romantic birthday dinner. And tonight we're going to break in the new place with some mind-altering birthday sex."

"You're right," agreed Lynette. "Arranging the apartment will be fun."

Tom gave her a dirty look and handed her another box.

_**Breakdown**_

Their new apartment was in the basement of the building with the only access via a set of thickly carpeted stairs. There were two other apartments in the basement, one directly next to theirs and the other across the hall, but Tom didn't see any of their new neighbors in his frequent trips between the parking lot and the apartment. By noon Charlie left, and Tom carried the last box of stuff down the apartment feeling triumphant in how quickly they'd pulled off the move. The feeling lasted until he opened the door and stepped inside.

The sight that greeted him was rather overwhelming. He'd known that the apartment was small—a bedroom, a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen so tiny that they wouldn't be able to stand side-by-side in the width of it—but as he passed by the closet right next to the front door and caught sight of the sea of boxes in the living room, reality set in: they would be tripping all over one another in here. Lynette, who stood in the middle of the room surveying the chaos, seemed to be thinking similarly if her expression was any indication. Tom dropped the final box on the floor with sigh.

"We're going to have to put more in storage," Lynette said, choosing to be practical instead of distraught. He could tell she was on the verge of losing that battle though. "There's no way this will all fit."

"It'll be fine," he said. If sensibility was Lynette's form of denial, his was out-and-out lies.

"How is this—" she gestured around the room with sweeping arms, "—going to be fine? This place is the size of a shoebox."

"So we'll be cozy."

"More like claustrophobic. There aren't even any windows!"

Tom glanced around as if he would magically spot a pane of glass where she didn't. "Okay. Okay. We need to take a step back and relax. This is all going to be okay."

"Oh really? Why? Because you say so?" she snapped sarcastically. He ignored her bite.

"Why don't we start with something we absolutely need? Like the bed. Let's reassemble the bed."

It never hurt to appeal to Lynette's rational side and this time was no exception. She let out a tense breath, nodded and began to step over and around the mess of boxes in the living room while Tom took the two steps that remained between himself and the bedroom. He and Charlie had dumped the various parts of the bed and the mattress inside along with his toolbox, and Tom didn't doubt that he and Lynette would make quick work of the project.

An hour later, tired and annoyed and sweaty, they flipped the mattress onto the bed and stood back to survey the damage. It took approximately ten seconds of staring at the monstrously big bed in the horrifically tiny room for Lynette to burst into tears. Impatient due to his own frustration with the situation, Tom just sank down on the mattress and buried his head in his hands.

"What the hell were we thinking?" she asked, hiccupping slightly on her sobs. "We're going to be stuck here for a year."

"No we're not," said Tom stubbornly. "We sublet for six months. We just have the option of extending our lease for another six months after that. And obviously we're not going to."

"Because we'll have killed each other by then!"

Tom groaned and lifted his head, crooking his fingers through her belt-loops and yanking her into his lap. "We are not going to kill each other."

"We couldn't even put this bed together without fighting!"

"That's because this bed is the creation of Satan himself."

Lynette half-laughed, half-sobbed and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "I hate this place."

"I know," said Tom. He sighed and ran his hands up and down her spine. "I do too."

_**Distance**_

It was hard to say what the worst part of the day was after that. Possibly it was when Lynette opened the bedroom closet to discover that a central heating unit took up a majority of the space. Perhaps it was when Tom realized he was going to have to choose between his chair and the television and nearly blew a gasket. It might even have been when Lynette finally got a good look at the bathroom—a horrifically tiled throwback to the seventies. Whatever the moment was, by eight o'clock they had over half of the boxes and some furniture back in the trailer to take to the storage unit the next day.

"What do you want to do?" asked Tom, sitting down on the bumper of the trailer and crossing his arms. Lynette shrugged, not indifferently, but upset.

"It's still your birthday. We missed our reservation, but we could still go out."

"I don't want to go out."

Tom struggled to keep his temper in check. "Well what do you want to do?" he said through slightly clenched teeth.

"I _want_ to take a bath, but our new bathroom doesn't have a bathtub."

"Well I can't do anything about that."

"Obviously." Lynette pushed a strand of hair off of her forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt in its wake, and then crossed her arms. She looked pissy and sullen and all of it seemed directed at him, as though this was solely his fault and not a decision they'd made together.

"You don't have to stay here, you know. You still have your apartment for a whole month."

"Yeah, I do."

"I'm just saying, you don't have to stay on my account."

"Fine."

"Fine."

They glared at one another for a moment and then Lynette gave him another angry shrug of her shoulders. He'd never known someone who could make a shrug so offensive. "I guess I'll see you later then," she said.

"Fine."

Lynette took off across the parking lot to her car without saying another word, leaving Tom sitting alone in the in the cold night air.

_**Words**_

Tom was still angry when he went to bed that evening, even going so far as to give the bed a swift kick before he climbed under the covers. For a day that had started so smoothly, nothing had gone right in the end and to top it all off he was spending the night alone for the first time since he'd gotten engaged. Logically he knew that he could spend the entirety of January in Lynette's apartment and not once step foot in the new place, but that was only putting off what was going to be their only reality come February.

After trying to read for a little while to calm his nerves and having no success, Tom finally turned off the light and began to toss and turn, strangely uncomfortable without Lynette beside him. He hadn't realized how accustomed he was to sharing a bed with her; how her presence and the sound of her deep breathing and the warmth of her body next to his had become a soothing way to lull him to sleep. It seemed futile to even try without her.

Just as Tom considered going to the living room to let the horrors of late night cable-less television knock him out, he heard a key turn in the lock of the front door and his heart sped up. It was after midnight and the day had been long and exhausting, and Tom couldn't quite believe that she had really come back until she stepped into the bedroom, a silhouette he could just barely make out in the dark.

"Hi," he said quietly. Lynette padded across the floor and climbed into bed next to him without saying a word, laying her head on his chest and breathing a deep sigh when he wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"Me too. I shouldn't have left like I did."

"I should have gone after you."

"It's probably good that you didn't. I needed to cool down."

Tom pressed his nose against the top of her head and let the scent of her shampoo relax him. Already he could feel the sleep that had eluded him creep up, making his eyes heavy and his body calm. "Why'd you come back?

"I found the birthday present you left me. I missed it this morning because I was in a hurry."

"Because you were late," Tom couldn't help but say.

"Yeah. I was." She paused for a moment and then tilted her head up to press a kiss against his neck. "Thank you. That jewelry box is just beautiful. I've never seen anything like it."

"It was my grandmother's. My mom held on to it after she died, but she never used it, so she said I could have it. I thought you'd like it."

"I do." She yawned and burrowed down further into his chest, clearly ready to sleep. "I love you."

"I love you too."

_**Actions**_

The next morning, Tom woke up early for work and stumbled into the bathroom, trying his best not to wake Lynette. She'd been lucky enough to take a vacation day in order to finish unpacking and arranging the apartment, but he was still stuck going to work. He was surprised, then, when she entered the bathroom just after he finished brushing his teeth. "Morning," he said, curiously, and all he got in return was a smile as Lynette sidled between him and the sink.

Without a word, Lynette hopped up onto the counter around the bathroom sink with a sultry look in her eye that Tom knew all too well. Apparently after the horrible day they'd had yesterday, she was ready to make up for lost opportunities. For a second, he contemplated how wonderful it would be to indulge her, but then reality set in and he finished lathering his face with shaving cream. He had to go to work, and he couldn't be deterred just because she was sitting there with tousled hair and hungry eyes.

Tom wiped the excess shaving cream on a towel and reached for his razor, but Lynette picked it up first, fingering it lightly. "Let me?" she asked, her voice still rusty with sleepiness. She spread her legs slightly and Tom assented by stepping in between her knees, his eyes taking in her every move as she brought the razor up against his cheek. Carefully but confidently, Lynette began to skim the razor over his skin, following the contours of his face with a masterful possession. There was something sensual about watching her work—a blended combination of her command, presence and concentration that made him want to pull her to him and have his way with her right on the sink. Gently, she tilted his head back so she could reach his neck, working around his Adam's apple with cautious precision. When she finished, she wiped away what remained of the shaving cream with the towel and ran a delicate finger over his cheek. "Perfect," she said quietly, and she ever-so-slightly shifted, arching her back and widening the spread of her legs. It was unfair, but effective. Unable to resist her any longer, Tom wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her closer and kissing her desperately.

Lynette twisted her legs around Tom's waist, fusing them tightly together while Tom's mouth went on to ravish her neck and his hand entangled in her hair, pulling her head back just a little to give him easier access. Already they were both breathing more heavily and as Lynette's breasts began to heave, Tom moved his mouth further down to place wet, open-mouthed kisses where they swelled out of her tank top. Lynette dug her heels into the backs of his thighs in response, forcing the lower halves of their bodies into even closer contact.

Hurriedly, Tom dragged his hands down her back and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her pants and she braced her hands on the sink so she could lift herself as he slipped them down. Reluctantly, she unwrapped her legs in order for him to get them both naked from the waist down, a task Tom performed in record time. As he kicked away their pajamas, Lynette spread her legs widely and leaned back, putting one hand behind her on the sink and grasping the side of the counter with the other. Tom took one long, greedy look at her and then positioned himself, sliding into her in one fluid motion while his hands grasped either side of the sink. Despite her precarious position, Tom immediately began to thrust hard and fast, drinking in the sight of her: eyes shut; mouth parted; breasts bouncing. Lynette began to make a noise somewhere between a pant and a moan and Tom moved even quicker, lost in the feel of her tight and wet and slick against him. When she suddenly shifted, drawing her right leg up onto the counter, he was able to push deeper inside of her, and with a few last hurried thrusts, he climaxed, gripping the counter white-knuckled as he came. Lynette whimpered as he quickly came down with a few final erratic movements, and he pressed his thumb against her, almost fiercely rolling and twisting her clit until she screamed, her inner muscles squeezing him like a vice as she reached ecstasy.

"Holy shit," she said breathlessly, laying her head back against the vanity above the sink and exhaustedly lowering her leg. "Oh my God, Tom…"

Tom ran his hands up her thighs and around her back, coaxing her forward so he could kiss her. The time…work…life itself seemed completely unimportant compared to the woman in front of him and Tom found himself unable to step away. "Do you hear something?" she asked as Tom played with the curls of hair that framed her face.

"Huh?"

Lynette shrugged, apparently unconcerned, and leaned her forehead against his, sighing happily. "Well that's one way to break in the new bathroom," she said. And then, just as Tom chuckled, she sat up again, saying, "Shh! Do you here that? Is someone knocking at the door?"

Tom paused, listening, and after a moment he heard it too—a distinct knocking sound. "It sounds like…Is it coming through the wall?"

Lynette cocked her head to the side, but the sound ceased and she frowned. "Why would someone be knocking on the wall?"

"Well you were screaming."

"Me? What about you? You're not exactly a mouse when we're having sex." Lynette's eyes widened. "Wait, you think someone heard us?"

Tom shrugged. "The bedroom and bathroom share a wall with our neighbor. It's probably not soundproof."

"Tom!"

"What?" He grasped her wrist and turned it to look at her watch. "Crap. I'll be lucky if I make it on time." He stepped away from her and turned on the shower, thinking he'd have just enough time to soap up and rinse off if he hurried. "Can you pick out a suit for me?"

"That's all you have to say? Tom, if we weren't sharing a post-euphoric hallucination we might have a big problem on our hands."

Tom threw his t-shirt on the floor with his pants and stepped into the shower, not bothering to pull the curtain closed. "I think you're overreacting. Don't get worked up about this."

Lynette jumped off of the counter and left the room without responding. As he was running late, Tom didn't bother to question this; in retrospect, he'd come to regret the oversight.


	10. Innocence

**Disclaimer: **Not mine!

**A/n: **Real-life threw me off track with the updates, but I'm back now and hopefully this week will go more smoothly. Thanks for all the great feedback on this last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one just as much.

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Ten: Innocence**

_**Robbed**_

As Tom headed out the door, Lynette gave him a perfunctorily chaste kiss that he barely noticed in his rush. She had a to-do list that was a mile long, but her mind was otherwise occupied, pondering the mysterious knocking and the puzzling question of just who their new neighbor was. In a world full of mights and maybes, not one solution came to Lynette's mind except to push her boundaries and see what happened; so once Tom was gone, she promptly showered and dressed and then marched out of the apartment and down the hall to their neighbor's door. Lynette knocked as loudly and obnoxiously as she could and only had to wait a few seconds before the door opened.

To her surprise, the new neighbor wasn't the crotchety old woman she'd pictured in her mind, but instead a balding middle-aged man who was drinking a beer even though it was only nine in the morning. Lynette faltered for just a moment, and then, without the slightest rational thought for how this could be entirely the wrong direction to take with her new neighbor, she launched into the speech she'd prepared in the shower. "Hi, I'm Lynette Lindquist, my fiancé and I are moving into the apartment next door. Were you—"

"Oh, so you're the bobcat who was screeching her head off this morning." He looked her up and down appraisingly and Lynette crossed her arms. "Funny, I pictured you as a brunette."

"Look, let's just cut to the chase—"

"Not that it matters. In fact, I'd say blond is better. That's natural, ain't it?"

Lynette didn't answer, trying desperately not to show how uncomfortable she felt and suddenly wishing for the wonderful little old lady she'd pictured. She rushed back into her planned speech: "You were obviously knocking on the wall this morning and that's—"

"No I wasn't. That was my wife. She was pissed as hell about all the noise you were making this morning. Cursing out you and Peter for subletting the place to you. She liked Peter 'cause he never brought anyone home. Whoever he was getting it from it all happened somewhere else, the bastard. Wait 'til I tell her you're engaged and we'll be hearin' it regular. She'll flip her lid."

"I—"

"You're not into gags or anything like that, are ya?" He took a sip of beer as his eyes went straight to her mouth. "Don't get me wrong, the visual's great, but if this is gonna work for me it's gonna to have to keep being an auditory thing. Maybe tonight you could have him slam you into the wall while he's fucking your pretty little brains out."

"You're disgusting," Lynette said, finally effectively cutting him off. "Stay away from me, stay away from my fiancé, stay away from my apartment and buy some ear plugs!"

Lynette abruptly turned to walk the short distance back to her apartment, but she could hear the man half-laughing, half-coughing behind her and the sound only made her increase her pace. Once she was inside she locked and dead bolted the door, but she couldn't relax. The apartment felt claustrophobic and after just a few minutes, Lynette grabbed her purse and keys and headed out to get her grocery shopping done, grateful that the stairs were right outside her door.

_**Purposeful**_

The moment she heard Tom's key turn in the lock that night, Lynette bounded toward the door to undo the deadbolt—which she'd kept firmly in place ever since returning from the market—and practically pulled Tom into the apartment. The feeling of uneasiness that had haunted her after her confrontation this morning had mostly faded, but she would never be foolish enough to keep that door unlocked, even when she was at home.

"Nice to see you too," said Tom as Lynette immediately reset the locks after ushering him inside. Once they were in place she turned and gave him a quick peck.

"Hi. Dinner is almost ready."

"Okay." Tom caught her arm as she passed him, turning her and kissing her properly. For a moment, she tensed, but when Tom pulled away to look down at her with crushingly loving eyes she felt a sigh of relief finally rush from her body and she relaxed. "Hi," he said softly. He moved forward to kiss her again, but Lynette ducked her head, wrapping her arms around him tightly and pressing her ear against his chest so she could hear his heartbeat. It took Tom only a second to recalibrate and return the embrace; his hands ran soothing circles up and down her back. Nothing in her life had ever felt so right or secure.

"Are you okay?" asked Tom.

"Yeah. Fine." She pulled back and gave him what she was sure was a less-than-convincing smile, but it was the best she could manage. "Let's eat."

"Lynette…"

"Tom. Really." Lynette ran a hand down his chest, following its progress with her eyes so she didn't have to look at him. "Everything is fine." She turned and walked toward the tiny kitchen, sure that Tom didn't believe her, but grateful that he didn't push her further.

_**Returned**_

Over the next few days, life got back to normal and the horrible Monday faded from Lynette's conscious mind. They ended up at her apartment, tipsy and laughing, on New Year's Eve and celebrated the first day of the new year by sleeping late and watching a _Twilight Zone_ marathon on television. After that it became fairly commonplace to start coming to her apartment again; the new one had such a feeling of incompleteness that it was simply more comfortable to stay in hers, and Lynette had the built-in excuse of needing to start to pack that kept both of them there guilt-free. It was a well-deserved avoidance of the cage they'd built themselves.

Meanwhile, Lynette scheduled one appointment after another for various wedding plans and by the third week of January they had everything set and booked for March eighth. The last thing she had to do was to pick up the wedding invitations, which she did one rainy Wednesday night after leaving work, arriving at her darkened apartment wet and cold and to an insistently ringing telephone. Lynette flicked on the lights and dropped the box of invitations on her couch, dancing around the various half-packed boxes in her living room to reach the phone.

"Hello," she said, slightly breathlessly.

"Hey, sweetie, it's me." Lynette smiled, but only for a second as the next words out of Tom's mouth made her roll her eyes. "Where have you been? I tried you at work and at home twice."

"I had to pick up our wedding invitations." She refrained from mentioning that she'd only told Tom this five times in the past couple of days. "I just got home."

"Oh, right. I forgot."

Lynette bit back a retort and simply asked, "Where are you anyway? It's after seven."

"That's why I'm calling. I'm over at my sister's place. She's having the baby and Shawn's sister is in Bermuda or Jamaica or somewhere, so Christa called and asked me to come up and watch the kids. I'm probably going to be here all night."

"Oh."

"So I'll see you tomorrow."

Lynette sighed and sank down on one of the boxes. "Okay. Yeah. Tomorrow."

"Unless you want to come over and help me babysit. We can put the kids to bed early. Make out on the couch a little."

In spite of herself, Lynette laughed. The statement was absurd enough to make her feel sixteen again, daring to kiss her boyfriend in what seemed, at the time, to be the most inappropriate places. "Are you serious?"

"Sure. It's only a fifteen minute drive. We just ordered a pizza. And this couch sure is big and lonely and just dying to see some action."

"Alright. I'll be over."

"Great. Can you bring me some clothes? Oh, and my toothbrush. I came straight here from work and I don't have anything with me."

"Ah, so all that make-out talk was all an ulterior motive to get me to bring you your stuff."

"It was a bribe. I get my stuff and you get some serious kissing in return."

"Ooh," said Lynette in a teasing tone, but she had already stood and headed into the bedroom to gather their things. "Master negotiator. Will that be kissing with tongue?"

"That'll be kissing without clothes if you want."

"Aren't there children with you?"

"They're glued to this video game. It like the original Super Mario, but better. I can make him fly with a special hat!"

"So the kids are the ones glued to the game, huh?"

"Just get over here. Mario will do a triple jump he'll be so happy to see you."

Lynette laughed again. "That is the worst euphemism I've ever heard. I'll be over in twenty minutes. Bye."

"Bye."

_**Childlike**_

Lynette arrived just as Tom was paying the delivery boy and in his excitement to see her he tipped the kid thirty percent without batting an eye. "Hi," he said, kissing her. Lynette dropped the overnight back in the foyer and followed Tom down the hall to the kitchen where he set the pizza on a marble island and called for the kids. "It's plain cheese," he said as she opened the box and he went digging for plates. "The kids won't eat anything else."

There was a thunderstorm of footsteps that Lynette was surprised could come from just two kids, and then the door from the basement burst open and a girl and a boy practically tripped into the kitchen. The girl was older, probably about ten or eleven, and she easily pushed past the smaller boy to get to the table first. The boy barely blinked at this, just scrambling after her as if this was an every day occurrence. Lynette suspected it might be.

The girl noticed her first, gazing at her with frank brown eyes. "Who the heck are you?" she asked, and at her words, the boy turned around in his seat to stare at her too.

"Yeah," he echoed. "Who the heck are you?"

"Laina, Riley," said Tom, setting down plates in front of them, "this is Lynette. Lynette, this is Laina and—"

"I'm Riley. I'm six."

"He's five," corrected Laina with an air of superiority. "He won't be six until March. Are you Uncle Tom's girlfriend?"

"We're getting married, actually," said Lynette, fighting a smile. Despite the fact that Laina seemed to have her father's flair for being a know-it-all, it was more charming in a little girl than a middle-aged man.

"Oh." Laina seemed to absorb this information. "So you'll be our aunt."

"That's right," said Tom. "Aunt Lynette." He grinned at her and Lynette managed a dazed smile back. The title was so foreign that it seemed almost unreal, and she couldn't quite wrap her mind around the idea that she would be an aunt to these little kids. Neither of her sisters had ever expressed an open intent to have children, and so the concept was one that Lynette had never given much consideration.

"I already have two aunts," said Riley. "What do I need another for?"

"Aunt Erin has a pool. Do you have a pool?"

"No."

"Oh." Laina shrugged. "How about a cat? I want a cat, but Mom's allergic, so we can't have one."

"I'm allergic too," said Tom dolling out pizza to both kids. "So no cats for us."

"I have a fish named Tubs," said Riley, who still hadn't turned away from her, even with the promise of pizza in front of him. Lynette made it easier by walking over to the table and sitting down next to Laina, across from Riley. He tracked her movement until she sat down. "Do you wanna see him?"

"After dinner," Lynette promised. Riley shrugged and took a huge bite of pizza.

"Do you have any kids?" asked Laina. She stuck up her nose and waved her hand, which held the slice of pizza, dramatically. "I already have thirty bajillion cousins—" Tom held up five fingers to contest this hyperbole, "—and mother is having another baby." Laina sighed. "It's my greatest woe. I detest children."

Lynette pressed her lips together to keep a laugh from escaping. "Your greatest woe," said Tom, shaking his head. "Laina, you like nothing better than being a big sister."

"Riley _never_ does what I say anymore." Riley grinned through a mouthful of pizza; the sight was fairly grotesque. "But I guess a little sister will be better than another _boy_."

"Sisters can be nice," said Lynette carefully. "I have two sisters."

"Two?" Laina set down her pizza and looked at her thoughtfully. "But are you the oldest? It's not the same if you're not the oldest."

"I am."

"Isn't it such a trial?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Lynette could see Tom shaking his head and chuckling, but she simply leaned toward Laina conspiratorially. "Sometimes," she murmured in agreement. "But the secret is that it's still better than being in the middle or the youngest."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. Definitely."

"Hmm," said Laina. She turned to Tom. "You can marry her. I approve."

"Whew," said Tom, wiping a hand over his forehead. "Thank goodness. I was worried there for a minute."

Laina giggled, breaking her adult character and turning back into a little girl, and this time Lynette couldn't help but laugh too.

_**Lost**_

By the time it came to put the kids to bed, Riley had taken up residence in her lap, and he declared quite brazenly that he wanted Lynette to tuck him in. At this, Laina pouted until they came to an agreement to have both she and Tom tuck in both children. It was a strange routine to follow; reading bedtime stories and listening to Tom sing silly songs and receiving kisses given willingly from the unadulterated love of children. Lynette, who hadn't spent time with kids since she was one, was surprised to find herself fairly at ease, even, daresay, enjoying herself.

When they finally shut Laina's door, Tom put his hands on her shoulders and followed her back downstairs into the living room. He sank onto the couch before she did, threw his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table and patted the empty cushion next to him. He waggled his eyebrows at her and grinned. "Now we can get to the grown-up part of the evening."

Ignoring this, Lynette sat down on the coffee table next to his feet and Tom looked at her puzzled. "What?" he asked.

"You're really good with those kids."

"So are you."

Lynette shook her head. "I held my own. But you, you're a natural."

"You got Laina through the whole night without throwing a tantrum. I've never had that happen when I watch them. So don't be modest."

"Okay," said Lynette, though she wasn't really agreeing with Tom's assessment of her skill, but simply acknowledging his statement. "We seriously need to discuss having kids."

Tom laughed nervously. "What? Now?"

"Why not?"

"Lynette, I'm tired. It's been a long day. All I want to do is make out for awhile and then go to sleep. Is that too much to ask?"

"You always change the subject when I bring this up. Why is that?"

"Because…I don't want to talk about it."

"Because you want kids."

"No."

"I think you do. And I think you don't want to admit it because you're afraid I'm going to say I don't and then we'll actually have to confront the possibility of this huge obstacle."

Tom dropped his feet from the coffee table and leaned forward, grasping her hands in his. "Sweetie, I want whatever you want."

"Don't. Don't do that. I don't want to wake up five years from now to find you suddenly telling me you've changed your mind and you want eight kids, okay? We need to talk about this now."

"Then you start."

"Me?"

"Yeah. You've obviously been thinking about this. What do you want?"

"I—I want…" Lynette trailed off, at a loss for words. The truth was that she hadn't considered what she wanted at all. Mostly, she'd just wanted Tom to admit that he wanted kids so he could enter their marriage with no lies and no regrets. None of that involved wondering what she thought.

She'd never pictured herself with kids, but there hadn't been any reason to consider it because she'd also never been in love like this before. Kids had just been some big, looming concept that didn't concern her, but now…what? She hadn't thought about it. That was the plain and simple truth. She hadn't once considered what it would be like to have an actual child with this actual man in front of her with whom she was going to spend the rest of her life.

"Lynette?"

Lynette stood and resettled herself in Tom's lap. Without a word she began to kiss him, long and hard and distractingly. It didn't take much; before she knew it Tom's hands came to rest on her ass and his tongue was doing marvelously ridiculous things inside of her mouth. She needed time; time to figure out how she felt and what she wanted because, for the first time, she was considering one day, maybe, possibly, having a child with him. She couldn't tell him, of course; not until she'd made up her mind. She was too afraid of raising his hopes with any inkling of a possibility before she'd thought about it carefully.

But, she thought, at the very least she had to figure it out before the wedding.


	11. Three Degrees of Revelation

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine. Is that clear by now?

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Eleven: Three Degrees of Revelation**

_**One**_

Tom took the last set of stairs up to Lynette's apartment two at a time despite his exhaustion from going up and down six flights so many times. They'd spent the past two weeks slowly moving her stuff into their new place and today was the final haul. There hadn't been much left—they'd moved the furniture out the day before—but Tom was still glad that this was the final trip. He was actually somewhat surprised Lynette hadn't met him downstairs (he could have sworn only one box remained the last time he'd left the apartment), but when he reentered the apartment, he found Lynette staring out the living room window down to the busy street below. Even from the back, she looked tense and Tom frowned. He knew the move was going to be a huge adjustment for both of them; he just wished she seemed even a little excited about it.

With his footsteps echoing through the empty apartment, Tom crossed the room to stand behind Lynette. He put his hands on her shoulders and began to massage her taut muscles, resting his chin on top of her head. After a moment she reached her right hand back to place over his left. "I know we're starting a new part of our lives today," she said quietly. "But that apartment just has such a bad vibe. I don't know. I'm worried."

"It's just an apartment."

"I have a bad feeling."

Tom dropped his head to kiss her temple and then her cheek, simultaneously wrapping his arms around her chest. "We are going to be fine. Trust me."

"I know. I know." Lynette turned in his arms and pecked his lips. "We should go."

Lynette slipped out of his embrace and walked across the apartment. "Lynette?" he said, and she paused but didn't turn around. "I went grocery shopping last night. There's rocky road ice cream in the freezer."

Lynette threw him a grin over her shoulder. "Yeah," she said. "We're going to be fine."

_**Two**_

Tom was fully convinced that nothing could make a Monday night more enjoyable than making out on a couch with his scantily clad fiancée. Television. Sports. Beer. None of it compared to lying on the couch with a beautiful woman writhing on top of him. And the only thing that could possibly make it better was going to the bedroom and getting completely naked.

"We should move this to the bedroom," Tom murmured against Lynette's lips. He ran his hands up and down her back, trying to finagle the clasp of her bra open.

Lynette sat up, denying him, and tossed her blonde locks over her shoulder, smiling coyly. "Why don't we just stay in here?"

"In here?" They'd been forced to move in Lynette's love seat instead of her couch and it wasn't even long enough for Lynette to lie down without scrunching her legs, let alone him. A glance to the opposite wall revealed that the shelves that housed the television felt crowdedly close to them and Tom suddenly had the horrible sensation of being boxed-in. "Don't you think we'll be a little cramped?"

"We had sex in the bathroom before and that room is the size of a shoebox."

"Bathroom sex is an exception to the rule. Also, car sex."

"Come on, Tom," said Lynette, running her fingernails over his bare chest. She leaned down and kissed his forehead and then attempted to scoot further down so she could kiss his neck. Unfortunately, his legs were bent at the knee in order for him to fit on the couch, and she had no where to go. Only a brief look of frustration indicated her annoyance, but she quickly covered it by reaching back, unhooking her bra and tossing it aside. The bra hit the television with a _thwack_ and then dropped to the floor.

"Honey, I'm not sure this is going to work."

Lynette ignored him, leaning forward to brace her hands against the arm of the couch as if she was physically trying to extend its length. Truthfully, Tom was fairly sure this couldn't be her actual goal, but in her new position her breasts hung enticingly right in front of his face and his mind couldn't pick up a logical train of thought when anatomy forced him to think with another organ. No longer concerned about their location, Tom leaned up and gently sucked her left nipple into his mouth, using his tongue to trace slick patterns over her rapidly puckering skin. The sensation made Lynette freeze in her slightly awkward position; her breathing grew heavier and Tom grasped her hips, pushing her down against him. Unfortunately, with his legs bent and their pants on, Tom couldn't generate nearly enough friction to satisfy his need and he released his suction on her breast to mutter, "Naked. Now. Bedroom."

Sitting up straight and leaning back against his legs, Lynette slowly caressed her own hands over her body down to the fly of her pants and swiftly unbuttoned them. She planted her feet against the arm of the couch on either side of his head, pressed her back firmly against his legs, and used the leverage to raise her body so she could shimmy out of her pants. Tom watched with eager eyes as she tugged her pants past her hips; in haste, his own hands gripped some of the fabric to help her, and with one particularly hefty yank, Lynette lost her footing. Her right leg shot off of the arm of the couch and she landed hard on his stomach, smacking her head off of his knees. "Ow," she said, rubbing the back of her head while Tom tried to catch his breath.

Despite the setback, Tom was still in the mood—maybe more so now that her pants were down around her knees and her bare ass rested on his stomach—but also more convinced than ever that the couch was not a viable option. He struggled to get into a seated position, and once he was mostly upright he gently pushed Lynette off of his torso while swinging his legs around so they came to ground. Standing, he resumed his hold on Lynette's pants and pulled them off completely, then offered her his hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Moving to the bedroom."

"No."

"Lynette…" Tom leaned over her, resting his hands on the back of the couch and kissing her several times. "Come on," he murmured against her lips. "We'll have fun. I promise."

With a firm hand, Lynette pushed Tom away from her and stood. For a second, he thought she was acquiescing, but then she scooped his t-shirt from the floor and tugged it over her head. "I said I don't want to go in there," she snapped. "Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing?" Tom grasped the shirt in his hands, trying to pull it back over her head, but Lynette just batted his hands away. "Lynette!"

Lynette found her panties, still rolled in her jeans, and put them back on too before collapsing on the couch again. Stubbornly, she curled into a ball on her side and used the remote to click on the television. "You can't be serious," he said, aghast. "We were going to have sex! You were naked!"

"And now I'm not."

"No, no, no, no, no, no," said Tom quickly, dropping to his knees and running his hand up her still-bare thigh. "We can do it in here. That's fine. I'll get a blanket. This floor is surprisingly soft. So comfortable…"

"I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, baby, please don't do this to me."

"You have hands. Use them."

Tom groaned and buried his head in the couch cushion.

_**Three**_

Tom fell asleep before Lynette joined him in bed and by the time he woke up the next morning, Lynette was already in the shower. Even though it was early and he could have gotten another half-hour of sleep before he had to get up, the mental image of Lynette wet and naked combined with her denial of him the night before was enough motivation to make him roll out of bed. He stripped as he walked to the bathroom, already somewhat aroused, and grinned at the thought of his overdue satisfaction. If she wanted to do it in a small, crowded space she'd get her wish this morning.

Tom entered the bathroom quietly and pulled back the shower curtain without announcing himself. Before Lynette could even say his name, he stepped into the small space—the shower was pretty much a four-by-four tiled coffin—and wrapped his arms around her. "What are you—" she began to ask, but he cut her off when he crushed his lips to hers, kissing her passionately.

"Mm…Tom…You…Mm…" Lynette's arms snaked around his neck and he took one step forward to press her back against the wall. Quick to respond, Lynette threw her right leg up around his hip and Tom hooked his left hand under her knee to keep her in place. Eager, maybe overeager, but he needed her so badly at that point he couldn't quite care, Tom took himself in hand and guided himself to her opening. As Lynette tipped her head back to rest against the wall of the shower, Tom pushed inside of her in one fluid motion and she moaned loudly. That one perfect, beautiful sound was too much for Tom to take, and he began to move, hard and fast.

"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God," said Lynette, getting progressively louder each time. Tom moaned in response and suddenly Lynette snapped her head back up, looking at him with huge, anxious eyes. It would have been a mood killer if he wasn't so far gone, and he was grateful when she smashed her mouth against his. The kiss was rough and sloppy, but Lynette was persistent, not breaking the connection even as her breathing became more ragged. Desperate for release, Tom settled his hands on her hips and began to thrust even more quickly, trying and failing to pull away from her for air. Finally he felt her body begin to shake beneath him, nearly vibrating as she climaxed, and she bit down on his lip hard to keep from screaming. The pain of her bite contrasted so greatly with the sensation of her soft, wet body trembling beneath him that Tom came too, his fingers digging into her hips to steady her body against his.

Slowly, Lynette lowered her leg and leaned most of her weight back against the wall of the shower. She was panting heavily and her eyes were heavily-lidded with unbridled lust. The sight was worth the tang of blood in his mouth from where she'd bit his lip and Tom sighed contentedly. "That," he said, placing his hands on either side of her neck and kissing her gently, "was amazing."

"Yeah." Lynette ran a finger over his lower lip. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to bite you so hard."

"I'm fine," said Tom. He stepped back, withdrawing from her and picking up the bar of soap. As he lathered his body in suds, he raised a curious eyebrow. "But since when do you care about making too much noise?" He handed the soap over to Lynette, who fingered it clumsily.

"Since…always."

"You screamed so loudly last weekend that your voice was hoarse after. Is this because of the neighbors?"

Lynette shrugged. "I don't like that they can hear us."

"Honey. It was one time. And we don't even know for sure that they heard anything."

Rinsing off, Lynette pulled back the curtain and stepped out of the shower. She wrapped herself in a towel while talking. "I know. I went over there." Without bothering to dry off, Lynette walked out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of water behind her.

"What?" Tom called. He turned off the shower and stepped out, not bothering with a towel as he went after her. "You went over there?" he asked, catching her by the elbow near the bedroom door. "When?"

"That morning. After you left for work."

"Why?" Tom laughed nervously. "Why would you do that?"

"It bothered me. That knocking was passive aggressive and rude and I wasn't going to just sit around not doing anything about it."

"Okay," said Tom slowly. Lynette nodded and backed away from him, finally toweling her body off and then twisting her hair into the towel. "Well what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"The guy was a jerk. We fought. That was the end of it."

Tom felt his blood pressure rise a little. "The guy? It's a guy?"

"A guy and his wife. The wife was the one knocking. _He_ didn't exactly care."

"What does that mean? Lynette? What does that mean?"

"It means…what it means. He was a pig. It was exactly what you'd expect."

Tom crossed the room and grasped her shoulders, forcing Lynette to look up at him. "What did he do?"

"Tom."

"What did he do?"

Lynette sighed and crossed her arms. "He didn't do anything. He just made some masochistic comments and basically told us to keep going with the loud sex."

"So what? He's getting off on it?"

"Well that's a disgustingly blunt way to put it, but yeah. I'd say so."

Tom grabbed his pajama pants off of the floor and pulled them on and then threw a t-shirt over his head. "What are you doing?" Lynette asked. "Tom? It's seven in the morning. You can't go over there."

"Watch me."

Tom stormed out of the bedroom and Lynette followed him, her voice sliding up into a slightly hysterical register. "Don't. It's only going to make things worse."

"That pervert is over there whacking off to the sound of us having sex. And thanks to you going over there, he has a great visual to go along with it. How is it going to get any worse?"

"I don't want him to know he got under my skin."

"Lynette, you were so afraid to make noise last night that you refused to have sex. Obviously he did get under your skin."

"Look, my mom had a series of men traipse in and out of our house when I was a teenager, but I was underdeveloped and plain enough that they barely looked at me. But Lucy had curves from the time she was twelve, and they certainly looked at her. She figured out fast that the best way to stay out of a bad situation was to avoid it, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm not going to give that man any power over me by letting him know that he made me feel like little more than a toy."

Tense and angry, Tom shook his head. "I can't just sit around knowing he did that to you."

Lynette gazed at him with dewy blue eyes. "You're gonna have to," she said softly. Slowly she stepped over to him and slid her arms around his back, hugging him tightly. "I will get over this. I will. It's just going to take some time."

Tom sighed. He wanted to go next door and punch his neighbor square in the jaw. He wanted to move out of this horrible apartment to someplace where they didn't have to share a wall with anyone. He wanted to go back in time and stop Lynette from ever going over there. He wanted to do something, anything, to stop himself from feeling so powerless.

But the only thing he could do was to hold Lynette and pretend that all of this was okay.


	12. Girl Talk

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine.

**A/n: **Thanks to those of you have reviewed. Please continue to let me know what you think; it really does make all of this worthwhile.

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Twelve: Girl Talk**

_**Advice**_

"This is exactly why I didn't want Tom to find out. We haven't had sex in five days. Every time we start something now he gets this look in his eyes." Lynette sighed loudly. She and Lucy were going out for a lunch they'd planned weeks ago, and it couldn't have come at a better time. The past week had been frustrating, to say the least, and Lynette desperately needed time away from Tom and, even more, another woman's advice.

"A look?" asked Lucy skeptically.

"Yeah. It's like…possessiveness. Like I'm his and he's not sharing."

Lucy glanced at her sidelong for a brief second before focusing back on the road. "I'm sure that's exactly how he sees the situation."

"It's stupid."

"Lynette, you were the one who started all this."

"Because I was uncomfortable knowing that pervert was listening to me through the wall!"

"So now…What? You're fine with that?"

"No. Not really."

"But?"

"But…Well…Now that it's been five days I've realized that I'd rather have sex with a pervert listening than no sex at all." Lucy laughed loudly, and Lynette glared at her. "This is serious! What am I going to do?"

"Lynette, he's a man. He won't be able to go much longer before he implodes."

"You haven't seen what he's been doing in the shower."

Lucy made a noise somewhere between disgust and disbelief. "Trust me, Lynnie, he can only satisfy himself for so long." She grinned and then shook her head.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, come on. What?"

"I was just thinking."

"Yeah?"

"You want a sure-fire way to get him back in your pants? Tell him you want to wait until the wedding to have sex."

Lynette raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm dead serious. Before Dave's brother got married, his fiancée Kristin shut him down for the whole seven months they were engaged. She told me that she'd never seen Will so desperate. It was like a challenge."

"They went seven months without sex?"

"Kristin's a prude. She could go years without sex. They probably only do it now to procreate. But you don't have to actually go a whole month. Just string him along until he gets horny enough that nothing's going to deter him."

"That's cruel."

"Yes. And effective." Lucy flicked her turn signal and pulled into an empty parking space on the side of the road. Lynette peered out the window curiously and frowned when she realized where they were.

"What are we doing here?"

"We're here to pick up Lydia."

"For?"

"Lunch."

"Lucy! No!" Lynette threw her head back against the seat and groaned rather childishly. "Does she even know we're coming?"

Lucy opened her car door. "It was her idea," she said as she got out of the car. Lynette had no choice but to exit too, scrambling out of the car before Lucy even made it to the sidewalk.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah I'm serious. It's her way of apologizing."

"Apologizing?"

"Yes, it's this whole big concept where one person says she's sorry and the other person forgives her."

"Clever."

Lucy shrugged. "Come on. We're already fifteen minutes late."

Obediently, Lynette followed her sister into Lydia's apartment building and up the two flights of stairs to her door. She was still muttering slight comments of disbelief as to Lydia's awareness of the lunch—one of them was always playing mediator between whichever two were arguing—when Lucy opened the door without knocking and half-guided, half-pushed her inside. Lynette turned to tell Lucy off, but before she could they stepped into the living room and were greeted by a loud chorus of "Surprise!"

Lynette turned to Lucy, mouth opened in shock, and Lucy said, "It's your wedding shower!"

"Oh my God!" said Lynette, her hand automatically drifting up to her rapidly beating heart. "Oh my God!" She gave Lucy a grateful, happy smile, but Lucy shook her head slightly and said quietly, "It was all Lydia's idea." With a gentle shove, she pushed Lynette toward their little sister, who stood front and center of the group of women in the room. Tears welled in Lynette's eyes as she embraced Lydia.

"Thank you," she said.

Lydia patted her back. "I'm sorry about all those things I said at Thanksgiving. I didn't—"

"Don't worry about it. It's forgotten." Lynette pulled back and nodded firmly, but Lydia looked as near on the verge of a crying jag as Lynette felt. "No tears over it either, okay?"

"Okay." They smiled goofily at one another until Lucy interjected, taking control of the party even though it was Lydia's function. Lynette just rolled her eyes, Lydia laughed, and as simple as that, everything went back to normal.

_**Encouragement**_

The shower lasted nearly three hours, during which time Lynette got, among other things, a new set of cookware she definitely needed, a lamp that wasn't hers or Tom's style in the slightest, a new set of towels, and lingerie so skimpy that she was unable to look Tom's mother in the eye. Her own mother had opted not to come, a fact Lucy glossed over with a throwaway excuse and Lynette chose to think of as a stroke of luck even if it did feel like a slight. By three o'clock, only her sisters, Christa, and Tom's mother remained, and although it was awkward, they were getting along better than Lynette had expected. Of course, her sisters were far cry from her mother; that hell was yet to come.

"I had two showers," Christa said. Her new baby, Brogan, sat against her chest examining the room in wide-eyed wonder. "Shawn and I were living in Nevada and all of my friends were there, but Mom wanted to do something here too. We ended up with three toasters and more cutlery than two people could use in a lifetime."

"Didn't you register?" asked Lucy.

"No. It was 1982; it wasn't as common back then."

"Wow. Fifteen years."

"Fifteen this October."

Lydia smiled, but it was nervous, almost fake. "That's impressive."

"In our family the record is a lot less remarkable," explained Lynette with a wry chuckle. "Lucy will be at three years in June."

"So your parents," said Allison carefully, "aren't together any longer?" The way she said this made Lynette feel self-conscious about not having a father for the first time in years and she fought the heat she felt rising in her cheeks.

"Dad left right before Lydia was born," said Lucy deftly, jumping in where Lynette faltered. "Lynette, you were…what?"

"Six. Almost six."

"So I guess technically that's the record."

"Oh," said Allison. "Well, sometimes these things don't work out."

With Lynette uncharacteristically embarrassed and, judging by her expression, Lucy revving into protective mode, Lydia stepped in to ask, "How long have you been married, Allison?"

"Forty-three years this past November."

"Wow." Lucy's eyes widened in awe. "What's your secret?"

"It's not a secret. I promised to stay with Rodney for the rest of my life. That's a promise I intend to keep. No matter what. That's what _marriage_ means."

Christa laughed nervously. "Gee, Mom, that's real romantic."

"Marriage isn't romantic. It's hard work."

"I'd say it's both," offered Lucy.

"Well, you're young, dear. And practically still a newlywed. Give it another decade."

Christa stood, abruptly, and Brogan fussed for a few seconds at the sudden shift. "Mom, can I see you in the kitchen for a minute? Lynette, hold her for me, will you?" Before Lynette knew what was happening, Christa juggled Brogan into her arms and nearly pulled her mother off the couch and into the kitchen.

"Jeez," hissed Lucy. "Is that lady the ice queen or what?"

"She's not that bad," said Lynette honestly. Allison was a little reserved, but in their brief interactions Lynette had gotten the distinct impression that she put up with a lot from Rodney. Marriage was obviously something she took seriously, and Lynette worried that her nonreligious upbringing and broken home were the only points of contention Allison had with her. She was going to have to work hard to show her future mother-in-law that these weren't detrimental facts. Carefully shifting Brogan from one arm to another, Lynette sighed. "I just want her to like me."

"Are mothers allowed to like the girls that marry their sons?"

"Thanks for that, Luce."

Christa came back into the room and sat down without taking the baby back. "Okay, Mom ran to the bathroom and there'll be no more scary marriage talk when she gets back. Sorry about that," she said. "I'd make an excuse, but really, that's just Mom."

"Wait 'til you meet our mother," said Lydia ominously.

Christa smiled, not realizing that the words weren't facetious, and said, "You're a real natural with kids, aren't you, Lynette?"

Lynette looked up from Brogan's big blue eyes, slightly surprised. "Who, me?"

"Yeah you. My kids were raving about you after you babysat. Laina was particularly impressed. She said you didn't talk to her like a child."

"Uh…"

"Trust me, coming from Laina, that's a compliment." Christa rubbed her hands on her knees. "You're going to be a great mom."

Lynette laughed nervously. "Well, we're still making up our minds about that."

"What? Kids?"

"Yeah."

Lucy looked at her, obviously surprised. "You don't want kids?"

"I didn't say that." Lynette stood and handed the baby back to her mother, folding her hands over her chest uncomfortably. "I said we're still talking about it. Let's face it, one night of babysitting doesn't make me the mother type."

"What are you talking about?" asked Lydia, laughing a little. "You are exactly the mother type. God, Lynette, you practically raised Lucy and me."

"No I didn't. I may have looked out for you guys as a big sister, but I didn't raise you."

"You were the only consistently stable figure in our lives and you know it. Look, I'm not saying that's a reason to have kids, I'm just pointing out that it's not a good excuse to not have them."

"Yeah. Okay."

Lucy and Lydia exchanged a look that rankled Lynette's nerves and she glared at them. Seeming to sense that she'd brought up a sensitive topic, Christa said, "I wasn't sure I wanted kids either, but Shawn really did, so I kind of just gave in. Up until the day Laina was born I still couldn't decide if I'd made the right choice, but once I held her in my arms…" Christa shrugged, as if there were no words to express how she'd felt. "It's different when it's your baby. All of a sudden you have this wonderful little person who is all yours. It's like…love personified. It changes your entire life. And it's not always perfect and it's not always fun, but you wouldn't take it back for anything."

Lynette and her sisters stared silently at Christa for a moment, and to Lynette's surprise, it was Lucy who broke the silence. "Dave and I have been trying to get pregnant for a year now."

"Lucy?"

"Really?"

"It's not…There are some complications. Fertility issues." Lucy shook her head dismissively. "I would give anything to have a baby, and I'm not sure it's ever going to happen."

"Oh, sweetie." Lynette sat down on the arm of the chair and wrapped her arms around Lucy's shoulders.

"Don't. Please," said Lucy, shrugging her off. "I don't want a pity party. I just thought you should know. Don't take it for granted, okay?"

Lynette kissed the top of her sister's head. "Okay."

At the sound of Allison's footsteps down the hall, Christa loudly and abruptly changed the subject and Lynette smiled at her gratefully. The last thing she needed was to hear Allison's opinions on children; there was enough on her mind without mixing in another person's thoughts. Doubts and certainties and worries and hopes were all swirling inside of her, but the one and only thing that grounded her was the sight of Christa and Brogan and the sudden, strange longing to have that bond herself. Confused, Lynette excused herself and walked to Lydia's bedroom to collect her thoughts.

Lynette had just closed the bedroom door and sunk down onto the bed when Lydia slipped into the room uninvited. "Hey," she said quietly, not bothering to fully enter the room.

"Lydia, I just need a minute, okay?"

"I know. But I just wanted to say something."

Lynette sighed, but tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice when she asked, "What?"

"You're not Mom."

"Uh…Okay."

"No, Lynette." Lydia stared at her intensely. "You're _not_ Mom. You can do so much better than her. So don't let that idea scare you out of something great."

Lynette's face softened and she nodded. Without another word, Lydia left the room, and Lynette stared at her reflection in mirror above Lydia's dresser. "I'm not Mom," she whispered and against her will, a smiled crept onto her face. The words felt good, truthful, and for the first time relief ran through her. "I'm not Mom."

Finally sure of herself, Lynette went back to say her goodbyes. Suddenly, she needed to get home.


	13. Arguments

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine. Nope, nope, nope.

**A/n: **Thanks again for the reviews, especially to those of you who have been letting me know what you think so consistently. I really appreciate that you take the time to leave feedback after each chapter. And if you're reading and haven't reviewed, I'd love to know what you think too.

**The Hour Shadows Disappears**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Thirteen: Arguments**

_**Unexpected**_

Tom had found out about the surprise bridal shower nearly a month previously, though at the time he strongly suspected the only reason he had been let in on the secret was to provide Lydia with contact information for some members of his family. Lydia had spent most of the phone call strenuously threatening his life if he let Lynette know beforehand and then a couple of hours later Lucy had called to do the same. Truthfully, Tom had forgotten about the entire affair until that Saturday a month later when Lucy came over to pick up Lynette for "lunch" and winked at him on the way out. In a flash of inspiration, Tom realized that he would have the entire apartment to himself for at least three hours. Three hours during which Lynette would have no idea what he was doing. Three hours during which Tom would have plenty of time to have a nice, long talk with their neighbor with no risk of Lynette finding out.

Tom waited a good half an hour after the girls left before he walked down the hall and knocked on his neighbor's door. As much as he wanted to respect Lynette's wishes and simply let the whole affair blow over in due time, ever since he had found out he hadn't been able to shake the feeling of the presence of a third party in the bedroom with them. It was stupid and rather akin to a Neanderthal, but Tom wanted her all to himself and the only solution seemed to be to shut things down before they got started. Unfortunately, it hadn't taken him long to realize the solution was a Band-aid at best; in going from regular sex to barely touching her for five days, he knew that he couldn't keep it up much longer. Here, finally, an ulterior solution presented itself.

As the door opened, Tom squared his shoulders and reminded himself not to let his temper get the better of him. It was rare, his temper, but unpleasant. The reminder seemed unnecessary, however, when a tiny woman whose mousy-colored hair had apparently never left the 80s, answered the door. Tom faltered at the sight of her and she took the opportunity to smile wolfishly and say, "Well, you're too big and strong to be one of those nasty cookie-pushing Girl Scouts. What are you selling? Vacuums?"

The connotation instantly brought to mind his father's infidelity—was this how the affairs had started: with a flirtatious woman who clearly wanted more than a household product?—and Tom felt even more shaken. The woman sensed this and her smile turned to more of a snarl. "You've gotta work on your sales pitch, honey," she snapped. "No one's gonna buy what you're selling if you just stand there looking stupid."

"I'm not selling anything."

"Well I didn't peg you as a religious peddler, but—"

"No. My name is Tom Scavo. My fiancée and I just moved in next door."

The woman frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, any semblance of flirting or friendliness gone. "Francie Cooper," she introduced herself without pomp. "What do you want?"

"Actually, I wanted to speak to your husband."

"Luke? He's out at the bar. Flaherty's. Probably be there 'til closing. You can find him there." She started to close the door and Tom held out a hand to stop her.

"Look, I don't want to bother you, but we have a problem."

"You have a problem?" Francie laughed bitterly. "I'm the one who has to listen to you two goin' at it. You sounded like a pair of apes the other morning. But at least you cut down on the screaming."

Tom shifted uncomfortably. "Are you aware that your husband is…" Tom hesitated, searching for the right word, but Francie didn't seem to need tact.

"Getting off on it? Uh yeah, I live with the bastard. One hint of a noise from over there and he whips out the lotion and goes to town."

Ignoring this horrid visual image, Tom said, "And that doesn't bother you?"

"Of course it bothers me! That's why I knocked on the wall. And I'll keep knocking on the wall until you two learn to shut the hell up."

With some effort, Tom pushed past how uncomfortable he felt discussing any of this with the small angry woman in front of him. One way or another, he had to make a point. "I hate to burst your bubble, but there's no such thing as silent sex."

"Here's what I'd suggest: get creative. Shove something in her mouth to shut her the hell up and then do the same to your own. No more slamming anything into the wall. There you go. Problem solved."

"Look, I came over here to try to find some kind of practical solution to this."

"You came over to tell my husband to stop picturing your woman while he's jerking off. Well guess what: that's not gonna happen. So I'd suggest you and the missus find some other place to get intimate."

Without waiting for a response, Francie slammed the door shut and this time Tom didn't protest. The entire visit had been fruitless and, even worse, Tom felt more self-conscious than before. It was absurd to even think that they'd have to find some clandestine place for sex; they were going to be married in a month. But after today, Tom simply couldn't imagine ever having sex in that apartment again.

Dejectedly, Tom turned to go back to his own apartment, and then almost regretted not continuing to argue with Francie. Much to his horror, Lynette's mother was leaning against the door to his apartment and looking utterly amused. "So," she said the second he spotted her, "having some trouble with the neighbors?"

With a sigh, Tom walked down the hall and pulled out his key to unlock the apartment door. Stella followed him inside without prompting; one glance at her face told him exactly what she thought of their new space, but Tom ignored this. "What are you doing here, Stella?"

"I came here to yell at my daughter." Tom raised a questioning eyebrow and flopped down on the sofa. With the small dining table the only other option for seating, Stella chose to sit down next to him. "She didn't invite me to her bridal shower. My sister called a couple of hours ago to ask me if I needed a ride and I didn't even know what the hell she was talking about. What kind of girl doesn't invite her mother to her own shower?"

"She didn't know about it. So why don't you do us both a favor and yell at someone else instead?"

Stella's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, look who grew some balls. And here I had you pegged as a sissy."

"I'm not exactly in the mood for this."

"What do you care what those people think? Are you really going to stop having sex just because they're listening?"

Tom ran a tired hand over his eyes. "Oh my God, I cannot stress enough how much I don't want to talk about sex with you."

"Hey, if I'm okay with it, you should be. She's my daughter after all."

"Yeah. Exactly my point."

"Fine." Stella rested her elbow against the arm of the sofa and leaned away from him. "You don't like me," she said, as if this was a sudden realization.

"You don't like me," Tom pointed out without denying her accusation. It seemed pointless to lie to this woman. If there was one way she and Lynette were alike it seemed that they both had incredible aptitude for detecting bullshit.

"I don't know anything about you. You just show up out of the blue and announce you're marrying my daughter. I didn't even know you existed prior to that moment. How do you think that made me feel?"

"In retrospect, I shouldn't have blurted it out like that," admitted Tom. "But if you want to know why Lynette doesn't tell you stuff then maybe you should take a good look at yourself."

Stella made a disapproving noise with her tongue. "You don't even know me. You don't know anything about my relationship with Lynette. So don't act judgmental."

"I know Lynette has a two inch scar down her back from where you broke a beer bottle over her."

"That…" Stella shook her head, obviously disgusted, though Tom wasn't sure if it was with him or herself. "That was a mistake."

"Yeah. Same with the other scars on her body too, right?"

"You think I was proud of any of that? I did the best I could."

"Well it wasn't nearly good enough, was it?" Tom stood abruptly and went to the kitchen to get a beer out of the fridge. Stella followed him, but had to linger in the doorway as the kitchen wasn't big enough for both of them to fit.

"So I made some mistakes!" she said unapologetically. "I'd take everything back if I could, but I can't. I'm sure Lynette told you every rotten thing I ever did, but did she also mention that incident with the beer bottle was the last time I ever hurt one of my girls?"

Tom swallowed the beer in his mouth and squeezed the neck of the bottle in frustration. "She was thirteen, Stella. Lydia was seven. That doesn't give you a remotely good track record."

"You have no idea how horrible I felt that day. And God willing, you never will."

"I would never lay a hand on my own child. And neither would Lynette."

For a split second, Stella looked like she wanted to argue, but then her face relaxed and she shrugged. "Then you'll be better parents than I was. But don't underestimate me. I love Lynette."

"I know," said Tom. As twisted and strange as Stella's love was it did exist; he couldn't deny that. "But I'm not sure Lynette knows that you do."

Stella waved a dismissive hand at this remark, either unconcerned or unconvinced, Tom wasn't sure which. When she looked at him again Tom was relieved to see that she seemed slightly less disdainful of his existence. "Maybe you're not all bad," she said. "You'll keep Lynette on her toes. She needs that."

Tom refrained from pointing out that there were even more important things Lynette needed; things he planned to give her. Unconditional love; reassurance; stability—Stella either wouldn't understand or wouldn't care and Tom didn't have the energy to argue with her any more. He simply said, "Thanks," and planned to leave it at that. Stella seemed to have other ideas.

"But that doesn't mean I like you."

"I'm okay with that."

Stella nodded. "Good."

_**Unprecedented**_

Despite Tom's best efforts, he couldn't convince Stella to leave before Lynette came home, so when he heard her key turn in the lock, he braced himself for yet another argument. It was a shame too, because when she first stepped into the room her face with almost glowing in excitement—an expression that faded the second she saw her mother. "Mom," she said, carefully setting a laundry basket full of presents on the floor. Behind her, Lucy came into the apartment with another armload of gifts and had a similar reaction to seeing Stella. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to hear all about the shower. I assume my invitation was lost in the mail?"

"Mom, don't get mad at Lynette," said Lucy quickly. "The decision was mine and Lydia's. You want to yell, yell at us."

"I'll yell at whoever I damn well please."

To Tom's surprise, Lynette walked into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her without saying a word. He'd never seen her run from a confrontation before and as much as he wanted to avoid more fights today, it bothered him to see her flee. Stella stood and started toward the bedroom, but Tom stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

"Don't," he commanded. "She doesn't want to talk to you right now. I think it's time you leave."

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Mom," said Lucy, "come on. I'll drive you home. You can yell at me."

For a moment, Stella seemed to consider fighting with both of them, but then she huffed an exasperated, "Fine." Then, changing gears, she shouted, "Fine, I'll go! But you can't avoid me forever, kiddo!"

"Mom, please!"

Stella grabbed her purse from the floor and stormed out of the apartment just as Francie's obnoxious knocking sounded from next door. Apparently her annoyance with the noise level wasn't limited to sex. Lucy gave Tom a sympathetic look then went after her mother without a word. With a sigh, Tom entered the bedroom without announcing himself and found Lynette pacing the room with her arms crossed over her chest. "She's gone," he said quietly.

"Lucy told me that she chose not to come! I didn't know they didn't invite her!"

"I told her you didn't know about the shower. She didn't care."

"That's because she's just been itching to yell at me." Lynette began to gesticulate with her arms, a sure sign that she was working into a full rant. "This is just an excuse! She's been pissed at me ever since we announced the engagement!"

"Honey—"

"Don't! Don't try to calm me down!"

The knocking on the wall began again and Lynette looked positively furious. Without warning, she picked up vase of flowers on the dresser and threw it against the wall. The vase shattered into a thousand pieces and littered the floor with glass; water dripped down the wall. For a moment, everything was silent, and then Francie pounded on the wall again and Lynette groaned in frustration.

"Lynette, what is going on? You're scaring me."

"I'm so sick of her! She made my life miserable for years and then I finally moved out, I finally got my life together and I thought that it didn't matter anymore! But I was wrong! Everything I do…Everything I think…It's like she's still there in my mind, ruining everything!"

"What has she ruined?" Tom felt his own temper rising and he tried and failed to keep it in check. After the day he'd had Lynette's meltdown was the last thing he felt like dealing with and even if it wasn't fair, the whole day was going to come down on her shoulders. "You have an amazing career. Plenty of friends. We're about to get married. What has she possibly ruined?"

"The way I see myself! She's made me so scared of becoming her that I don't even know what I'm capable of!"

"What does that even mean?"

Lynette started, almost as if she had caught herself saying too much. "Nothing! I don't want to talk about it now! Not when we're mad!"

Tom took a deep breath, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "I'm not mad."

"Yes you are."

Tom threw up his hands, knowing even as he did so that he was proving her point. "Fine! So you tell me how I feel now. That's fine." He grabbed his wallet off of the dresser and shoved it into his back pocket.

"Where are you going?"

"Out! Is that okay with you?" he snapped.

Lynette made the same dismissive hand gesture that her mother had made earlier and sat down on the bed. Tom didn't feel bad as he left the apartment; she needed to cool down as much as he did. Her sudden outburst baffled him. There had been no catalyst for her to react so violently; her mother had barely said two words to her before she'd flipped out. It made no sense that she would blow up like that and he wasn't in the mood to deal with her irrational behavior. Especially if she was going to take it out on him.

Tom slammed the door behind him and angrily hoped that Francie continued to knock.

_**Hypothetical**_

When Tom arrived home that night he had a few beers in him and a much calmer attitude. Once he'd been able to sit and think for awhile, he'd slowly realized that Lynette was always going to have issues with her mother. It was something he had to accept because the best he could hope for was that some of the wounds would fade with time; he knew they'd never be gone completely though.

The situation with the neighbors still weighed heavily on his mind, though. There was no kind of practical solution for the problem and Tom wasn't sure what to do. It seemed too much to hope that the Coopers would move out and even more absurd to think that he and Lynette could go months without having sex. He knew that soon he'd have to sit down and actually discuss the situation with Lynette—and admit he'd gone over there today—but for now he wanted more time to come up with a solution on his own.

Tom found Lynette sitting in the darkened living room watching an old Cary Grant movie on TV. She was wrapped up in a blanket and when he came toward her, she unexpectedly opened the fold and invited him into her cocoon. Tom complied, sitting down next to her and letting her close the blanket around both of them. Gently, she laid her head on his chest and Tom ran his fingers up and down her arm.

"I realized today that I'm not my mother," she said quietly, apropos to nothing.

"Well I could have told you that months ago."

Lynette ignored this and continued. "We were sitting at that shower and I was watching your sister with the baby and I had this sudden thought that I want that. But as soon as I thought it this pure fear ran though me and all I could think is that I can't."

"You can't what?"

"I can't have a child. Or I thought I couldn't because I was so scared of treating my own child like my mother treated me. But I didn't even realize that was why until Lydia told me that I'm not like Mom."

Tom squeezed her tightly, his heart almost breaking at the words. He'd thought there were a hundred reasons why Lynette was hesitant to have a baby, but the idea that she'd think she was capable of hurting her own child the way her mother had hurt her hadn't even crossed his mind. "You were afraid that if we ever had kids you'd treat them like your mother treated you?" he reiterated, stunned.

"Kids who come from abusive homes are more likely to abuse their own kids."

Tom shook his head. "But sweetie, you wouldn't. I know you. I've seen how you love. And it's protective and magnanimous and ongoing and that is exactly what a child needs."

A few tears rolled down Lynette cheeks and she pulled away from him to wipe them away. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"Oh, honey." Tom reached up a hand and brushed away the remaining tears that clung to her eyelashes. She shut her eyes. "I thought you already knew."

Lynette shook her head. "When we have a child I can't put her through what my mother put me through." She took a shuddery breath and leaned forward, kissing his forehead, his cheek, and then his mouth. Her lips still against his, almost as if she was breathing the words into him, she whispered, "Promise me. Promise me we'll be better. Promise me we'll do it right."

"We'll do the best we possibly can." Tom pulled away from her a little so he could look her in the eye. "That's all any parent can promise."

Lynette nodded slowly. "Okay."

Gradually, Tom smiled; a big, joyous grin that lit up his face. "So, we're going to have kids."

"Well I was thinking a kid. In ten years. You know, once I've gotten far enough in my career that I feel comfortable taking a few years off and we're financially secure and settled and—"

Tom cut off her rambling with a firm kiss and when he pulled back Lynette was smiling. "How about four within ten years?" he suggested seriously.

Lynette laughed and lightly slapped his cheek. "Don't press your luck, Scavo."


	14. Virtues

**Disclaimer: **This so isn't mine. I'm just having fun.

**A/n: **Sorry it's been so long! Life can so interfere with writing sometimes. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Thanks to everyone for the reviews!

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Fourteen: Virtues **

_**Chastity**_

Lynette studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror skeptically and adjusted the cups of her bra one more time. After a sixth day passed without sex, Lynette had felt compelled to take more drastic measures. So tonight she'd hauled out the lingerie she'd been given at the shower. As slutty as it had looked when she opened it, it was even more absurd when she put it on, involving underwear that barely fit, a garter belt and some rather tacky tassels. Still, she thought as she turned to the side, if Tom didn't respond to this she wasn't sure what she'd do. Pulling her hair out of the clip that pinned it up, Lynette shook her locks vigorously and left the bathroom.

Tom was lying on the bed right where she'd left him, his nose still buried in a file folder as he twirled a pen in his fingers. Running her hands through her hair one more time, Lynette leaned back against the doorframe and said, "So I was wondering…"

"Yeah?" Tom didn't even bother to look up and she rolled her eyes.

"Is this too slutty for our wedding night?"

Tom's eyes finally darted to her and his mouth dropped open. "Oh wow," he said almost breathlessly. He dropped the file on the floor and tossed the pen away. "Where did you get that?"

"I was thinking maybe I should go more virginal. Maybe a long, white nightie," she teased. "What do you think?" She stepped closer to the bed, meeting Tom at the edge as he crawled toward her.

"Can you make these spin?" he asked, flicking at one of the tassels. Lynette put her arms around his neck and dropped down into his lap.

"Only if you're a very good boy." Lynette slipped her hand down to cup him through his pajamas and Tom jumped. Grasping her by the wrist he pulled her hand away.

"I am going to be on my very best behavior. Just wait and see."

"I don't want to wait." Lynette leaned down and began to kiss his neck, paying special attention to his Adam's apple—that always melted him like butter.

"Well I was thinking, sweetie," said Tom, his hands darting to and fro on her skin as if they were afraid to settle in one place, "that maybe we should wait."

"Wait for what?"

"Wait until the wedding night. You know. To do it."

Lynette wrenched away from him so she could look him in the eye. "What?"

"Just think how special it would be if we waited." Tom smiled encouragingly, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Oh no. No." Lynette stood up and backed away from him. She pointed a finger at him accusingly. "_You_ can't say that! You're the guy!"

"Lots of people wait."

"Oh my God! Stop!" Lynette grabbed her robe from where it hung on the back of the door and put it on, tying it closed with clumsy fingers. Forbidding sex until the wedding had been her last-ditch, emergency plan and now here he was, suggesting it like he could wait all the time in the world. "What is wrong with you?" she shouted.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but there was a knock on the wall. Predictably, he spread a hand toward it as if to say, "That is exactly my point!" Lynette groaned in frustration.

"Look, I know I started this whole thing. I know that I was the one who went over there. I know that I was the one who opened my big mouth. I know that I was the one who was uncomfortable. But I've moved past it! I hate to tell you this, but at some point the horniness outweighs the pervy neighbor!"

"Lynette—"

Lynette shook her head, unwilling to listen to his explanations. She already understood. She knew why it bothered him. That didn't make it feel like any less of a rejection. "No. It's fine. Fine. We'll wait. That's what you want to do."

"Sweetie, I didn't mean to upset you. I just think that it's all going to be worth it."

"Three long weeks. Just keep that in mind, Tom." Lynette turned away from him.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a shower." Lynette turned and glared at him. "A cold one."

Tom sighed.

_**Charity**_

Reading and walking simultaneously was a skill Lynette had mastered as a child. She hadn't been particularly bookish—there'd been too much mischief to get into in her neighborhood—but she'd liked reading from the time she was five and had often used it as a means to escape. Stories about people and places completely outside the realm of her reality had been a fantastic distraction. In any case, the ability certainly came in handy at work; not only did it enable her to double task, but it also served as a neat way to avoid unnecessary conversations with people she didn't like. In this instance, it was Jake Wheaton, who'd been itching to hitch his horse to her wagon ever since she'd beat out Lou for the Thompson account. She'd noticed him skulking around outside the conference room and quickly buried her nose in a file to make an escape to her office.

By the time Lynette opened her door, she was actually so engrossed in her reading that she didn't notice that Tom was in the room until he spoke. "Do you ever walk into things when you do that?" he asked, startling her so severely that she gasped. He sat in her chair with his feet up on her desk like he belonged there.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. She snapped her file closed and shut the door so they had some privacy. If this was some sort of booty call to make up for his vow of chastity…well, she would severely discourage it before giving in.

"I have a really big favor to ask."

"Oh." She crossed the room and tossed her file onto her desk. "What?"

"You know how I told you last week that a few of us were taking a potential client out to dinner tonight?"

Lynette sat down on the edge of the desk and gave Tom a wary look. "Yeah?"

"Well it was just meant to be a schmoozing kind of thing. No real business talk before the meeting on Wednesday."

"Yeah. I know how those things go."

Tom gave her a slightly annoyed look that peeved her; he was the one asking her for a favor. "Right," he said. "Well somewhere along the way Peterson forgot to let us know that it's a couples thing. I guess his wife is finally feeling up to going out and he's taking it as an opportunity to celebrate. So long story short…Can you come to dinner tonight?"

"Oh Tom," said Lynette, already shaking her head. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Tom dropped his feet from the desk and leaned forward, putting his hands on her knees. "I know that we're in a competitive business—"

"Yeah."

"—and I know that I snubbed you at work before. But this is for my career. This is for our future. And we're not even discussing business, so it won't be awkward."

"Who is the client?"

"What does that matter?"

Lynette raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Tom. Come on."

"Fine. Fatteli's Frozen Foods."

"Tom! No. No, I can't." Lynette stood up and stared down at him. "Lou's pitching to them next week. If Anderson finds out about this I can kiss that promotion goodbye."

"How will he find out?"

"Don't. Don't be cute. We work in a small community. Rumors spread like wildfires."

Tom stood and stepped closer to her. His hands settled low on her back and despite the situation, her heartbeat quickened. "It's just dinner. No one there is going to mention it to Anderson. And you're not even the one pitching next week. Please."

"Tom…"

"For me."

Lynette sighed. There were a hundred reasons not to agree and he'd just cited the one reason she should. And that was the one reason that outweighed everything else. "Okay," she said. "But I'm agreeing with reservation. And you owe me. Big time."

"Add it to my tab." He leaned in to kiss her briefly. "Dinner is at seven. Rudolfo's. Reservation is under Peterson. Uh, would you mind—"

"I'll go home and change. Don't worry."

Tom grinned and kissed her again. "Did I mention that you're the best?"

"Did I mention that Lydia wants to read a poem at the wedding?

"A poem?"

Lynette nodded. She'd been none too happy about the news herself, but she wouldn't deny Lydia this unforeseen sign of enthusiasm. It had just been a matter of finding the right time to tell Tom. "That she wrote."

"Oh." Tom put on a fake smile, and Lynette restrained a malicious giggle. "Fantastic."

"I thought you'd see it that way."

_**Kindness**_

Lynette arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late and she was already thinking of effective ways to punish Tom if he even dared to mention it. After all, he was the one who had wanted her to go home and change so she wouldn't look ready to make a sales pitch. And if she was any judge of her own appearance, the flirty black dress she'd dug out of her closet was perfect for the occasion. Tom rose and greeted her with a quick kiss on the cheek when she approached the table and she was happy to see that his look didn't register even a hint of annoyance. If anything, he looked overtly pleased by her appearance.

The introductions were brief: Roscoe Fatteli and his wife, Caroline; Mark Bello and a girl simply introduced as Isabelle; and Jim and Jane Peterson. Lynette could tell that Jane was unwell—her skin had a papery, pale look and no amount of make-up could cover the bags under her eyes—but there was a fire in her eyes that showed she was a fighter and Lynette instantly found herself drawn to her.

"So," said Jane as Lynette took her seat, "Tom was just telling us that the wedding is in three weeks. You must be excited."

"We've been married twenty-eight years," said Caroline before Lynette could do more than smile. "You know how you always hear that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach? Well, it's true. So when you set up housekeeping the key is to find a good cook."

Roscoe nodded enthusiastically. "Our cook, Marita, is the best! And there's no argument that can't be solved with a good meal."

"What if the fight is about food?" Isabelle, who leaned forward with her elbows on the table, asked this so sincerely that no one knew how to respond. Finally, after a few forced chuckles from Mark that only made the situation more awkward, Lynette looked across the table to Jane and asked, "How long have you been married?"

"Fourteen years."

"Very respectable," said Caroline primly. She looked sternly at Tom and Lynette. "You can only hope to make fourteen, let alone twenty-eight."

"I'm not too worried," said Tom with such a lackadaisical ease that it didn't come off as condescending or mocking. He took Lynette's hand under the table and ran his thumb over her palm, staring at her hard. "I'm crazy about her." Flushing, Lynette tilted her head slightly to hide her smile. Somehow she was still caught off guard by these public declarations of adoration, wonderful as they were embarrassing.

Jim tipped his wine glass toward Tom. "That's the key," he said, nodding. There was a glassy look in his eyes that everyone at the table politely ignored. After a moment, Tom raised his glass as well and both men nodded in some sort of understanding before drinking.

"So," Mark interjected, effortlessly changing the subject to something less fraught with emotional pitfalls, "are you a big hockey fan, Roscoe?"

Apparently Roscoe was a fan, and as the conversation turned to sports, Lynette let the words wash over her. She was fixated on the Petersons—as the group's attention had turned away from Jim, Jane had taken the moment of privacy to give her husband a quick kiss. As she squeezed her husband's forearm, Jane's eyes caught Lynette's and they stared at one another. There was something so reassuring in watching her and Jim; something Lynette hadn't realized she needed until she'd seen it. After a few seconds, Jane raised her glass in a silent toast and Lynette returned the gesture.

_**Temperance**_

Lynette exited the bathroom stall and frowned when she saw that Caroline was still at the sink, admiring herself in the mirror. When she'd excused herself to go to the bathroom a few minutes ago, Caroline had felt the need to go as well. As Lynette had little use for group trips to the bathroom, the company hadn't exactly been welcome. Repressing a sigh, Lynette stepped up to the sink next to Caroline and promptly began to wash her hands.

Apropos to any previous conversation, Caroline caught Lynette's eye in the mirror and said, "Well, your Tom certainly seems to have a good head on his shoulders." Despite herself, Lynette smiled, not so much at the compliment, but at the expression "your Tom." It made something inside of her hum with happiness. Caroline pouted her lips to reapply her lipstick and continued, "Roscoe isn't much of a businessman. He tends to go with people instead of ideas. That's why I hate these little dinners. They give him such false ideas about what the company actually needs."

Lynette studied Caroline's reflection in the mirror, surprised by this sudden shrewdness. She would have never known it to look at her. "What does the company need?" she asked. It was an instinctive question and Lynette didn't second guess the appropriateness. If Caroline felt the need to confide in her, Lynette felt she had every right to exploit this.

"A new target audience. Every pitch it's the same old thing—direct the ads at bachelors. They all seem to think that there's no need to fix what's not broken, but I keep telling Roscoe that that's not where the money is. Not with so many busy working parents. Frozen foods should be a family product."

"Of course," said Lynette under her breath. Her mind seemed to be spinning a mile a minute with ideas and it took her a moment to come back to earth. This wasn't _her_ business. It was Tom's. "I'm sure they've come up with something brilliant," she added loyally.

"I certainly hope so. I've let Roscoe know what I think. My opinion is very important. You know how that is."

Lynette nodded and smiled tightly. "Sure. I know how it is."

"Good." Caroline snapped her purse shut and tucked it under her arm. "Are you finished?"

"Just about," said Lynette quietly. "You go ahead." Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Lynette listened to the click of Caroline's heels across the tiled floor and after she heard the door open and shut she felt free to drop her head. It was almost sickening how quickly she'd considered betraying Tom for this company's business and there was little consolation in the fact that it hadn't been a conscious decision. The thought of going to Anderson, of pitching this over Lou's head, was tantalizing, but she simply couldn't do it. Not to Tom. "_My_ Tom," she said softly to herself. With a resounding nod, Lynette tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and exited the bathroom.

_**Patience**_

Since she and Tom had driven separately, Lynette had to wait until he got home to talk to him about the odd conversation in the bathroom. For some inexplicable reason she felt a sense of urgency; as though if she didn't get the words out quickly enough then something bad would happen. As a result, she was pacing around the apartment when she heard Tom's key in the lock and the second he walked through the door, she blurted out: "Caroline cornered me in the bathroom to talk about business. I didn't want to, but she just started going on and on. I had to listen. I didn't want to." Realizing she was babbling, Lynette forced herself to shut up and she pressed her lips together anxiously.

Tom had already loosened his tie and taken off his coat and he looked at her in confused exhaustion. Lynette suddenly wondered if he'd processed a word she'd said. "What?" he asked wearily.

Lynette took a deep breath and forced herself to slow down. "She started to go on about how Fatelli's needs a new customer base: families. She thinks that's where the money is and I think she's right."

Tom crossed the short distance to the bedroom and sat down on the bed to take his shoes off. "Fatelli's problem is visibility. Recognition. He told us that himself. And it backs up the research. That's what we worked toward accomplishing. We can always branch out."

"His wife has him by the short hairs." Lynette stepped closer to him, running a hand over his hair down to his ear and tugging gently. "I'm telling you, she has some say in this decision. You'd be better off reworking some of your ideas."

With a sigh, Tom pulled her down onto the bed so she was lying flat on her back and then leaned over her. The look in his eyes was tender, but there was also an appeasing quality that made her aware that he wasn't taking this seriously. Inexplicably, her feelings were hurt. This was business. It wasn't meant to be personal and if anyone else rejected her ideas she'd take it at face value; this felt like she'd been stabbed in the back. "It's all going to be fine," said Tom. "You're right. It's a good idea. But we don't have time to rework everything in the next twenty-four hours."

"You should make time."

"You worry too much."

Hurt, Lynette rolled out from under Tom and reached around for the zipper on her dress. Tom didn't seem to realize that anything was wrong, and she wasn't entirely surprised when he dropped a kiss on the top of her head and then left the room. A minute later she heard the water running in the bathroom. Part of her wanted to let it go, to just repress the pain and get into bed and start fresh tomorrow, but that wouldn't make her feel any better.

Quietly, she padded to the bathroom; Tom stood at the sink brushing his teeth. For a second she just stood behind him, but then slowly she wrapped her arms around him, laying her head against his back. "I was just trying to help."

Tom spit into the sink. "You did," he said, the words reverberating through her. "You were brilliant."

Lynette shut her eyes and breathed in the scent of him, something purely masculine and the smell of faded cologne combined with something that was just Tom. Maybe he wasn't listening. Maybe he wasn't taking her advice. But he did appreciate her.

"I'm glad you're mine," she said.

Tom turned and she released her grip on him, stepping back. Whatever he planned to say died on his lips as he looked her up and down, his eyes glazing over at the sight of her in nothing but her bra and panties. She grinned naughtily. "Three _long_ weeks," she said as sexily as she could. Tom hands involuntarily clenched the edge of the sink and she reached around to unclasp her bra. As it fell to the floor, Tom gawked at her breasts and Lynette ran one of her fingers around her clavicle down between her breasts to her bellybutton. Tom stepped forward and kissed her greedily, his hands cupping her ass and massaging gently.

"God," he said, pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. "You are going to be so worth the wait."

He left the bathroom and Lynette sagged against the doorframe. "Three weeks," she muttered hopelessly.


	15. His

**Disclaimer: **Do I even need this? Ya'll know DH isn't mine, right?

**A/n: **Thank you all so much for the feedback on the last chapter! I'm glad you're all enjoying this little story of mine. And of course I'd love to know what you think of this chapter too. Thanks for sticking with me.

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Fifteen: His**

_**Not Sharing**_

In his whole life, Tom could not have predicted that the worst hardship he'd ever impose on himself would be ban on sex. With the long stretches of time that he hadn't been getting any through no choice of his own, the thought that he would have choose not to have sex was astounding. Yet here he was: two weeks of barely touching his fiancée and an end date that seemed a lifetime away and it had all been his idea.

It was unbearable.

Everything Lynette did lately turned him on. The way she walked. Whatever she said. Sitting at the table making a grocery list. In bed at night reading with her glasses perched on her nose. And that didn't even include the horrible, purposeful things she was doing to try to get him to break his vow. Two night ago she'd come to bed stark naked and the whole night every time he touched her it was soft, bare skin. The whole thing was tortuous.

Monday night, exactly two weeks since the last time they'd had sex, Tom arrived home from the office exhausted and cranky only to hear music that was booming deafeningly loud. As he stood in the hallway of his building, he slowly realized that the sound was actually coming from his apartment and he sighed as he walked to the door and inserted his key in the lock. The best he could do was to say a silent prayer that Lynette hadn't completely lost her mind before he opened the door and stepped inside.

Tom dropped his briefcase on the floor and toed off his shoes, calling for Lynette even though she probably couldn't hear him. As he stepped past the closet into the view of the living room, she caught sight of him and jumped up to come greet him. She'd already changed and Tom wondered exactly how long she'd been sitting there ruining her hearing.

"What is this?" Tom shouted over the noise.

Lynette danced her fingertips up his chest to the knot of his tie and she began to tug it loose. "A compromise. And maybe a solution!"

"I don't understand."

"Can you hear any knocking?" Tom's tie undone, Lynette moved onto the buttons of his shirt. After each one she unbuttoned, she pressed a kiss against his bare chest, slowly making her way down to his waist. Despite music so loud it was pounding in his ears, despite a pact—even one he'd never really wanted to make—the sight of Lynette now kneeling in front of him and undoing his belt was enough to make him block out everything else. They couldn't hear the neighbors; the neighbors couldn't hear them.

"Oh God, baby, you're brilliant."

She looked up just as she pulled down his pants. "What?"

"You're brilliant!"

Lynette grinned and stood back up, dragging her fingernails up his chest as she went. "I thought you'd see it my way." She pulled her shirt over her head. "Now can we finally break in the bedroom?"

Tom wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with no restraint. He felt like a man who'd finally gotten a cold drink of water after weeks of wandering in the desert. It was bliss. "God I missed you," he said as Lynette began to walk backward toward the bedroom; she didn't relinquish her grip on him and he followed her eagerly, barely remembering to step out his pants before going forward. Between the kisses and caresses, they missed the open bedroom door and Lynette ended up pinned against the wall.

At a temporary standstill in their progress to the bed, Tom leaned down to kiss Lynette's neck. It was a surefire way to get her riled up and he grinned in satisfaction when he heard her moan in his ear. Before he could even press another kiss against her smooth skin, however, he felt her stiffen in his arms and she drew in a sharp breath. Confused, he pulled back to look into her eyes, but she was solely focused on a point behind him. Tom turned to see what had caught her attention and his eyes widened at the sight of their landlord as he waltzed right into their apartment.

Even though she still had more clothes on than he did, Tom stepped in front of Lynette protectively. The landlord seemed to realize what was going on, though, and he turned around long enough for Lynette to grab her t-shirt and slip into the bedroom to turn off the music. At the same time, Tom put his pants back on then his shirt, missing several buttons as he hurried to refasten them. Lynette came back into the room looking less-than-composed; her hair was tangled from his hands, her lipstick smeared and a rosy flush still in her cheeks. Hands crossed over her chest and standing close enough to Tom that their arms touched, Lynette asked, "What can we do for you, Mr. Hanover?"

"You already did it. Turning the music off. I had three different tenants complain about the noise."

"Oh, was it too loud?" Tom shot Lynette a dirty look as she said this, but she kept her eyes steadfastly on Mr. Hanover. It was amazing what she thought she could get away with by pulling an innocent act.

"Yeah." Mr. Hanover ran a hand through his thinning hair and sighed. "Look, you seem like good people. Just don't let it happen again, okay?"

"Oh, we won't," agreed Tom. He gave Mr. Hanover a tight smile and the older man turned to leave.

"Wait!" called Lynette. She took a step toward their landlord faster than Tom could do or say anything to stop her. "Since you're on complaint duty anyway, I have just a small one to report."

"Lynette—" She turned to Tom, holding up one finger and silently telling him to shut up with the frosty look in her eyes. As much as he didn't want her to breath a word of their situation with the neighbors, that look was enough to silence him permanently.

"What now?"

"Our next door neighbor keeps knocking on our wall."

"Knocking...on your wall?"

"You know, whenever we get…intimate."

Mr. Hanover pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hence the music, right? Man, I'm too old for this crap."

Lynette clasped her hands together as though she was making a plea and Tom was blown away by how effective she was at selling their problem. She was at the top of her game at work for a reason. "Do you think, maybe, you could say something? Or, you know…evict them?"

Tom shut his eyes. Just when he was singing her praises for pulling an innocent act she decided to take it one step too far. Sometimes he couldn't comprehend the breadth of Lynette's nerve; he never could predict what she would say next. It was a trait that was as thrilling as it was horrifying.

"I can't evict your neighbors just because they're knocking on your wall."

"Oh." Lynette shrugged. "I guess that's understandable. But just so you know, sometimes I can't control the volume button on my stereo."

Tom laughed loudly to cover up the threat he was sure Lynette had made in all seriousness and stepped forward to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She didn't even glance at him. "I think what my fiancée is saying is that we would greatly appreciate _any_ help you could give us."

"Of course," agreed Lynette.

"This is really something you're going to have to work out amongst yourselves."

"Look, buddy." Tom flinched in recognition of Lynette's "losing it" voice. At this point there was nothing he could do but watch her crash and burn and hope that she didn't take him with her. "The future of my career hangs in the balance of a presentation I have to pull together by Friday. I am nineteen days away from my wedding. I have not had sex in two weeks and I am so tense I'm about to lose it. These people cannot be reasoned with so I want to know what you're going to do about it!"

To Tom's surprise, the more Lynette ranted, the more Mr. Hanover seemed to hunch over in defeat. Every word she said seemed to drag him lower and Tom was torn between pitying him or shaking him in frustration. "You want to know the truth?" he said tiredly. "The Coopers are a pain in the ass. I get complaints about them monthly. But there's nothing I can do about this. I have no grounds to evict them. I could tell them to stop knocking on your wall, but do you really think that will make a difference?"

Tom frowned. "So what? We're just screwed?"

"I don't accept that," said Lynette. "We aren't going to stay in this apartment until August and not have sex. It's ridiculous."

"If you want to get out of the lease you'll have to talk to your sublessor. It's nothing to do with me." Mr. Hanover shrugged, again, and Tom resisted the urge to hit him. He'd never met someone so apathetic. "Just keep the stereo down, okay?" He turned and left without another word.

For a brief moment, Tom kept his eyes focused on Lynette, nervously waiting to see if she'd take it out on him or go into some other sort of tension-relieving frenzy. When she didn't move, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and said, "Maybe I should call Peter."

"What good would that do?"

"We can get out of the lease early. Move somewhere else."

Lynette shook her head. "We can't afford to move somewhere else. Not if we want to buy a house."

"So what are we going to do?"

Finally, Lynette looked at him. Tom was surprised, but pleased, to see a fire in her eyes; she was far from defeated. "We're going to get the Coopers to move out."

"What?" Lynette patted his chest and then marched toward the bedroom. He followed her, burning with curiosity. "How?"

"I'm not sure. We need to annoy them. We need to annoy them more than they're annoying us."

Tom snorted and began to unbutton his shirt again. "Is that possible?"

"Well I was thinking…" Lynette eyed him a little nervously. "What would be the only thing more annoying than knowing your neighbors can hear you having sex?"

"Knowing that some pervert is getting off on it?"

"Exactly!"

Tom raised an eyebrow at her skeptically. "So what are you saying?"

"Look, I know you feel all possessive about this…me…but think about it. If every time we have sex our wacko neighbor is doing some solo hanky panky then that's got to be driving his wife crazy. We've just been giving in every time she knocks on the wall. But what if we didn't? What if we just kept going until she couldn't take it anymore?"

"Lynette." Tom shook his head. "No."

"Why?"

"Because it's awful. We're going let a pervert get off on our lovemaking just to cause problems in someone else's marriage?" Tom shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Besides, the whole point of getting rid of them is so we can have sex. If we have sex to get rid of them doesn't that defeat the purpose?"

In a move Tom saw as playing dirty, Lynette sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "This isn't just about getting our sex life back," she said in a low voice. "This is about showing those awful people that they don't get to run our lives."

"So this is about winning?" Suddenly, almost inexplicably, Lynette's whole face lost its glow and she simply looked tired and sad. Tom put a hand against her cheek, brushing her soft skin with his thumb. "What?" he asked quietly. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong with me?"

"What? Nothing."

"Yes there is. We're both healthy. We're together every night. But we haven't had sex in two weeks. And you, you of all people, claim that you can wait another nineteen days to sleep with me again. How is this only a problem for me? What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you!"

Lynette shook her head sadly. "Am I not…Is it me? Is there something about…me?"

"Lynette, there is not a single hour of any day that I don't think about having sex with you. Do you know how hard the past two weeks have been for me? Especially when you're walking around here looking so damn sexy all the time?"

"Then why aren't we having sex?"

"You know why."

"No I don't."

Tom sighed and dropped his hand from her cheek down to her shoulder and squeezed gently. "You said it before: I feel possessive of you. I know that's probably not the most attractive quality, but I can't help how I feel. You're going to be my wife. Mine. And every time I hear that knock on the wall it's like a reminder that I'm sharing you with someone else." Tom leaned his forehead against Lynette's and shut his eyes. "I can't share you. I just can't."

"But you're not. Tom, when I'm with you, I'm with only you. It doesn't matter who else can hear. It doesn't matter what anyone else may or may not be doing. You are the only one I'm thinking about. My mind, my heart, my soul…it's with you."

Something inside of Tom broke at her words. He believed her—of course he believed her; it was something he'd always known even if she'd never said it—but there was more to it than that: a realization of what being with her really meant; an acknowledgment of how ridiculously he'd been behaving. Combined with how much he needed her…It was enough to make him forget everyone else in the world.

Slowly, Tom turned his head and captured her top lip between his, kissing her so gently that it was almost like the first time all over again. Lynette seemed to realize what the gesture meant and she eagerly returned the kiss. For the first time in weeks, Tom didn't feel the slightest urge to put the breaks on and he reveled in every sensation of her body moving against his. It was a moment he felt he'd been waiting an eternity for and nothing was going to stop him.

Not even the inevitable knock on the wall.


	16. Marital Advice

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Sixteen: Marital Advice**

_**Personal**_

"So what presentation do you have on Friday?"

Lynette turned her head to look at Tom, completely muddled by the question. Her brain felt pleasantly foggy now that they'd finally had sex; she was more in the mood for round two than conversation. After careful consideration of the question, the most she could manage was an inelegant, "Huh?"

"You told the landlord that you have a presentation on Friday. A career-altering one. Were you just grandstanding or is something up?"

"Oh. That." Lynette dragged her fingers through her hair to pull it away from her face and blew out a sharp breath of air. She'd intended to have a plan before discussing what had happened at work today, but since Tom brought it up she'd just have to plunge in and hope for the best. At least post-coital he was less likely to get pissed. "Lou was giving Anderson the run-down on his pitch for Fatelli's this Friday."

"Oh?"

Lynette reached out to trace the curve of Tom's ear with her finger, catching the lobe between her thumb and forefinger and rubbing the soft skin there comfortingly. "Well, Anderson wasn't exactly impressed. And, now, you know how I get at work, Tom. I can't just let opportunities go, so I—"

"You pitched your idea?"

"Yeah."

Tom rolled away from her onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Lynette couldn't tell if he was mad or upset or if he was about to go into some irrational rant, but she held her breath in anticipation of whatever he felt. Part of her was genuinely worried that she had overstepped some boundary, even though he had been the one who insisted she go to dinner and he had been the one who hadn't listened to her. She'd regretted pitching the idea the instant the words came out of her mouth today, but when Anderson had pulled her aside to basically tell her the promotion was hers if this worked…well, it was almost worth it.

"So Anderson gave you the account?"

"Tom, if I land this account on Friday then the promotion is as good as mine. Anderson said so. But I swear, I wasn't even thinking about that at the time. I wasn't thinking about anything. I was just…" She shrugged helplessly and Tom sighed.

"You were just working. I know. I know how you are at the office."

"Are you mad?"

Slowly, Tom shook his head. "Mad? No. I'm a little worried that if you land this that Peterson is going to take it out on me. But if you do then it's my own fault for not listening to you in the first place. So mad? No, I'm not mad."

Lynette propped herself up on her elbow to look down at him, but he steadfastly ignored her gaze. It was a strange contradiction to his words, which honestly sounded neutral on the subject. "Tom?" She laid a hand on his chest and let the rise and fall of his steady breathing calm her nerves.

"I just want to get what I want and I want you to get what you want and I don't want either of us to lose. But one of us has to lose now."

"Is Peterson really going to fire you over this? Because, Tom, I swear if that's the case I'll go to Anderson tomorrow and pull myself off of the account. There will be," she swallowed hard to fight the lump in her throat, "other promotions."

Tom finally looked at her and he reached a hand out to run his fingers up and down her bare thigh. The gentleness of his touch wiped away any remaining worry that he was upset with her and she managed a small smile.

"I don't want you to resign the account. I'm going to go to Peterson tomorrow and tell him exactly what happened. He and his wife were at competing firms for years before they ended up working together. If anyone can understand, he will. If he doesn't, well, then, screw him."

They smiled at each other, a private, shared look that no one else would understand. "You know," said Lynette softly, "every so often I kind of get the feeling I'm marrying the greatest guy in the world."

Tom's hands grasped her hips and tugged until she settled on top of him. "Anyone I know?"

Lynette just laughed.

_**Unasked**_

Lynette skipped lunch on Wednesday to keep working on the frozen food campaign. She'd spent nearly two days straight holed in her office and snapping at anyone who disturbed her. Her co-workers finally seemed to be getting the message that she didn't want to see anyone who wasn't working with her on this, so she was unpleasantly surprised when there was a knock on her door that afternoon.

"Come in," she called impatiently. Her nose was still buried in the artwork she'd been given this morning even as she heard the door open and close. It wasn't until she heard a throat clear and a strange voice say, "You look hard at work," that she finally looked up. At the sight of Jane Peterson, Lynette abruptly stood and nervously ran her hands over her skirt a couple of times. She had no idea what Tom's boss' wife would be doing in her office, but immediately she decided it couldn't be anything good.

"Jane." Lynette laughed shakily. "What are you doing here?"

"Relax, Lynette. I'm just here to talk." Without being invited, Jane crossed the room and sat down on the small sofa cattycorner from her desk. After a moment, Jane gave Lynette a pointed look and she reluctantly sat down on the other end of the couch. "I was in the office this morning when Tom stopped by to talk to Jim."

"Oh?"

For the first time, Jane's face turned sour. "Don't do that with me. I don't want to pussyfoot around this. You know exactly why he stopped by and I know exactly what you were working on when I came in."

Lynette swore she could hear her heart beating and she had to force herself not to clench her hands. Last night in bed everything had seemed so pleasantly simple. So inconsequential. Now she realized that she'd just wanted to believe that because it was the easy thing to do. "Please," she said, hating the hint of desperation in her voice, "don't take this out on Tom. It's not his fault."

"Funny. Tom seemed to think it was all his fault." Jane crossed her legs and Lynette suddenly hated her for getting to take this so lightly. "Jim wanted to let him go."

"You didn't…"

Jane shook her head. "No. The truth is that the firm needs people like Tom. The reason he's so charming is because he's so honest. He's like the last nice businessman. I mean, you and I both know that nice only gets you so far, but it makes him likeable. And clients want likeable."

"Tom is great at his job." The words came out more defensive than agreeable and Lynette had to press her lips together to keep from saying more. Jane's little speech seemed more insulting that complimentary, somehow. If Jane sensed her displeasure, however, she ignored it. Quietly, not meeting Lynette's eyes, she said, "I'm not going back to work. This disease took too much out of me. I don't have the stomach for this business anymore. And maybe that's why I stood up for Tom today. Because I really like him. And you."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Jane leaned back against the arm of the couch and looked at Lynette again. "Being in this business as a couple…competing…" She sighed. "It can be really rough on your marriage. Jim and I were almost at the end before we decided to open the firm together. Even then it was hard for a long time." Jane reached out a hand and took Lynette's, squeezing it reassuringly. "You got really lucky this time."

"Tom and I are fine." Lynette swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat, and gave Jane a weak smile.

"I know you are. Just my advice, completely unsolicited and yours to take as you want: jobs come and go, but you're about to get married. That's going to last the rest of your life. The only way it works is if you put each other before anything else. And trust me the day is going to come when one of you might have to choose."

A million thoughts flitted through Lynette's mind at once, making it impossible for her to respond. If she could have focused, she might have said that Tom was already more important to her than her job. That if someone told her today that she could get her promotion or be with Tom that he would be her choice every time. For her it was a scandalous realization: Tom was everything and without him the world ceased to make sense.

Jane stood up and patted her shoulder a couple of times; apparently she didn't need any kind of answer. "I know you don't need me to tell you this, but Tom really loves you." She gave Lynette a brief smile and then walked to the door.

"Jane?" The other woman turned and tilted her head in a slight acknowledgement. Lynette, for the first time, gave her a legitimate smile. "Thank you."

With a nod, Jane opened the door and left her office as suddenly as she'd arrived.

_**Unwanted**_

Restless after Jane's visit, Lynette hadn't been able to keep her mind on her work for the rest of the day, so she packed up early and resolved to do some late-night tinkering after Tom was asleep. She'd never minded working under pressure and some of her best campaigns had resulted from all nighters in the past. Unsurprisingly, her early escape got her home from work before Tom that night and she had dinner finished by the time he got home.

"Hey," he said, kissing the back of her head. "I didn't expect you until late tonight."

"I brought work home. It was a weird day."

Tom finished washing his hands. "Yeah? Mine too. But the good news is, I still have a job. Here, I'll get that." He took the pan of chicken from her hands and she turned her attention to the rice on the stove.

"Jane Peterson showed up at my office today."

"What?"

"Relax, sweetie." Lynette ran a soothing hand up and down his back and then started to spoon rice onto their plates. "She just wanted to give me some advice."

Tom chuckled unsurely. "Advice about what?"

"Marriage. What else?" She grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard as Tom groaned good-naturedly.

"Have you noticed since we've gotten engaged how everyone keeps giving us advice?"

Lynette laughed as she set the wine glasses on their tiny dining table. "Yeah. My sisters. Your sister."

"My dad. Your mom. My boss' wife. My barber."

"Your barber?"

Tom set the plates down on the table and picked up the wine bottle. "He told me that as long as I always tell you that you look good in everything, never insult your cooking and never interfere with the kids unless you ask that you'll be happy as a clam." Sitting down at the table, Lynette gave Tom an incredulous look as he poured the wine. He just laughed. "The guy is like a hundred and two. Cut him some slack."

"It's fine. My aunt told me that I should always make you wear a condom because I'll never know where you've been. Your barber is charming in comparison to that."

"Hmm." Tom took a large sip of wine and gave her his personal Lothario look. With little effort—she was hungrier than she was in the mood—Lynette ignored him and began to cut her chicken. "You know what I think?"

"What?" Lynette took a bite of her dinner and tried not to respond to the feel of his hand on her knee.

"I think that as long as the sex stays good we'll be fine."

Lynette raised an eyebrow. "That's your marriage plan? Good sex?"

"Let's just try it for a decade or two. See how things go."

"Okay. Sure. Sounds good." Lynette rolled her eyes half-heartedly. Tom was either oblivious or unconcerned that she only had eyes for her dinner right now. As his hand slid further up her thigh, he leaned toward her to start kissing the sensitive skin where her neck met her jaw-line. Undeterred, Lynette kept eating. "Your food is getting cold."

Tom nuzzled her ear with his nose. "They invented the microwave for a reason."

In spite of herself, Lynette smiled briefly and set down her fork as she turned toward Tom. He grinned at her hopefully. Slowly, she closed the space between them, pressing her cheek against his so she could whisper to him as intimately as possible. "Are you saying that my chicken isn't worth eating fresh from the oven?" Lynette pulled back and pressed her lips together, trying desperately not to laugh at the look on Tom's face.

"You…" He shook his head while he cut his chicken and took a bite. Exaggeratedly, he moaned a long, "Mmm," and then he licked his lips. "That is the most fantastic chicken I've ever tasted."

"Wow." Lynette rested her chin on her palm and looked to the ceiling with hyperbolically angelic eyes. "I suddenly feel the urge to hike up my skirt."

"Really?"

Lynette slapped his shoulder. "Shut up and eat your dinner, Tom."


	17. Victories

**Disclaimer: **This still isn't mine. Well, the story is, but the characters aren't. I'm just borrowing them. Same goes for the previous chapter, which I forgot to write a disclaimer for. But I'm sure you all knew that wasn't mine either.

**A/n: **Thank you to everyone who is still reading this story. Thank you even more to those of you who are reviewing. It's always more motivating to write when you know that people are enjoying your work.

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Seventeen: Victories**

_**Big**_

Tom opened the door to the bar and entered the overheated, overcrowded room without much fanfare. A couple of hours ago he'd gotten an enthusiastic call from Lynette; she was already at the bar at that point and clearly pretty drunk, but he'd managed to make out that she'd landed the account and had gone out to celebrate. Other than the name of the bar, he hadn't been able to get much more information out of her, and he'd spent the last two hours of his workday slightly anxious about her. Finally getting to leave had been a blessing in more ways than one.

It took him several minutes to finally spot his fiancée. She was holed up in a booth in the back of the bar and to Tom's relief, her friend Natalie was with her. It made him feel better to know that she hadn't just been drinking alone for several hours. Carefully, he maneuvered through the crowd to reach her table.

"Tom!" Lynette looked up at him with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, but her smile stretched from ear to ear. She was glowing, but it obviously wasn't just because of the alcohol.

"Hey, sweetie," Tom greeted warmly. "Having fun?"

"I'm so glad you're here!"

Finally, Tom cracked a smile and he didn't fight Lynette as she tugged on his hand to get him to sit down next to her. The second he sat down, Lynette snuggled close enough to him that she was practically in his lap. Tom just wrapped an arm around her and picked up her half-gone margarita. "Hey Natalie," he said before downing quite a bit of the drink.

Natalie nodded by way of returning the greeting. "You got here just in time. I'm not sure I could take another second of her wondering when you'd get here."

Oddly touched by this, Tom turned and pecked Lynette on the lips, pulling away before she could start something in her overly-amorous drunken state. He'd learned long ago that Lynette had little restraint when she'd had a few too many. She grinned at him in return and slightly slurred, "I got the account."

"I know. Congratulations."

Natalie tipped her glass toward Lynette and added, "You're looking at the future vice president of Cenn and Simmons." Tom was impressed by how genuinely happy Natalie sounded seeing that she'd been up for the same position; it was enough to shake him from his slightly jealous stupor and for the first time he gave Lynette a really genuine grin.

"You are going to blow them away, baby. No doubt about it."

Lynette kissed him, very sloppily and without any regard to their audience, and by the time she pulled back she was giggling vociferously. "I need another drink," she said. Before Tom could offer to get it, she crawled over him with very little awareness to where her knees jabbed him and her hands pressed against him. He watched her for a few seconds as she made her way to the bar, in awe of how steadily she managed to walk and simultaneously mystified that she'd taken off her shoes at some point. "How many has she had?"

Natalie shrugged. "Only four, I think. She's kind of a lightweight."

"Well yeah," agreed Tom, trying not to convey too much of a _duh_ in his tone. "She's tiny."

For a moment, Natalie regarded him with her vivid eyes and Tom squirmed somewhat uncomfortably under her gaze. He took another drink before Natalie finally let him off the hook, casually mentioning, "She's really excited, you know."

"Oh, I know. She's been fighting for this promotion for so long now."

"No, I mean about the wedding. She wouldn't shut up about it. Or you. She rambled on for about twenty minutes telling some story about you trying to fix the sink in your bathroom or something."

Tom groaned. The clogged bathroom sink from last month had been a nearly epic fight that had ended with Lynette locking herself in the bedroom and Tom throwing a wrench at the wall. He couldn't imagine that, drunk or not, Lynette could ever tell that story with any sort of fondness.

"She told me that you were so stubborn that it just made the problem worse," Natalie continued, either unaware or unconcerned that he might be uncomfortable. "But she's so far gone on you that she said it was adorable how hard you were working and she didn't even really care that you had to pay a plumber to fix it."

"You could have fooled me," Tom said, not really joking, though Natalie laughed like he was.

"I'm just saying: she's crazy about you. She practically recited a soliloquy about her new name. 'Mrs. Tom Scavo. Lynette Scavo.' On and on." Natalie smiled. "It's cute."

Tom glanced back at the bar. Lynette had her drink in hand, but she was engaged in what appeared to be an unpleasant conversation with a middle aged man. Absentmindedly, Tom excused himself from Natalie and started toward the bar just as Lynette turned and walked back to him. Tom paused, but after only a few steps the other man caught her by the elbow, and after that everything happened so quickly it was almost a blur. Tom headed toward them as Lynette turned and tried to pull her arm away; when the man didn't let go, Lynette threw her drink right in his face. Instantly, the man released her to wipe the liquid from his eyes and Lynette walked away, but the distraction didn't last long. Just as he was inches away from reclaiming his grip, Tom stepped between them and put up a hand to push the man away.

"Get out of my way."

Lynette hovered behind Tom, clearly trying to get around him to keep the incident from escalating, but Tom held her at arm's length. "What's your problem?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. The last thing he needed was to get into a bar brawl.

"Nothing that concerns you."

"She's my fiancée. It sure as hell concerns me."

To Tom's surprise, the man began to chuckle as though the statement was a joke. Lynette leaned forward and whispered more loudly than she probably intended, "He's the pervert next door."

"So you're the one making her scream," the man said, continuing to laugh as though this was a happy fate. "Glad to see you finally took the muzzle off her again."

Tom's hand curled into a fist, but before he could even register this unconscious action, Lynette wrapped both of her hands around his, squeezing his fist in a subtle hesitation. Suddenly he was reminded that he'd made her a promise, one he couldn't break now just because he felt like giving this asshole a black eye.

"Maybe you should concentrate a little more on satisfying your own wife," said Tom. "From what I can tell, it sounds like she needs it."

Predictably, though only in retrospect, Luke Cooper raised his own fist and decked Tom right across the jaw. Lynette gasped, drawing her hands away from Tom's, and with her release Tom took the opportunity to return the punch. That was as far as either of them got before they were pulled apart by other patrons of the establishment. Tom struggled only until he felt Lynette's gentle hand on his face, cupping his jaw on the uninjured side. One look into her worried eyes and the fight completely drained from Tom; he went slack in the grip of the men holding him back and after a minute they released him. Luke Cooper had no such deterrent, and the last Tom saw of him was the other men dragging him out of the bar.

A second later, Natalie was at their sides, her purse over one shoulder and Lynette's over the other. "Are you okay? What the hell happened?"

"Nothing." Tom cringed in pain as he moved his jaw.

"That didn't look like nothing."

"The guy was being a jerk. Tom defended himself." Lynette gazed up at him with eyes as bewildered as they were awestruck and Tom reached out to take her hand, mostly grateful that she didn't seem upset.

"Apparently," agreed Natalie sardonically. Lynette, the alcohol still beating her common sense, ignored this as she stared down at their conjoined hands.

"I love his hands," she said absently. She flipped his right hand over so it was palm up and began to run her finger around the outline of his palm. Tipsily, she grinned at him. "I love your hands. Did you see what you just did with them?" Tom opened his mouth to speak, to get her off this bizarre line of thinking, but Lynette, now fixated on this, continued before he could. "They're so strong. So manly. And they feel so good on my body." Without awareness of anyone else there, Lynette suddenly went from gentle to rough, grasping his slightly bruised hand and pulling it to her chest. "So good," she purred.

"Maybe you should take her home," suggested Natalie, laughter in her voice. "Before she does something she won't remember regretting."

Lynette drew his hand up her body and sloppily sucked one of his fingers into her mouth. He fought very hard to keep his breathing even. How she could possibly manage to turn him on considering where they were and what had just happened was an honest-to-God mystery. "Yeah," he agreed. "I think you're right."

Tom extracted his hand from her grip, much to her dissatisfaction, wrapped her arm around him to keep her steady and took her purse from Natalie. Natalie simply shook her head, amused, and then winked at Tom.

"I'll see you at the wedding." She caught Lynette's free hand. "And congratulations to you, Miss VP."

Apparently too occupied with trying to suck his entire ear into her mouth, Lynette ignored this, but Natalie just laughed her off. Clumsily, Tom practically carried Lynette out of the bar, all the while saying a silent prayer of gratitude that she was too drunk to actually undo the buttons on his shirt as it wasn't for lack of trying. If she had the capability, she would have stripped him naked on the walk to the car, and Tom, remembering the last time she was drunk, carefully deposited her in the back seat.

"What are you doing?" she whined as he struggled to fasten her seatbelt. "My shirt's still on."

Tom kissed her forehead in as chaste a manner possible. "And it's going to stay on."

"You're no fun."

A grunt of a reply did little to end her pouting, but Tom simply ignored this and slammed the door shut. In the end, it mattered very little; within five miles of the drive home, Lynette was sound asleep, her head lolling from side to side in silent slumber. Tom couldn't help but be a little disappointed that his defense of her honor would go unrewarded.

_**Small**_

The next day, Tom got up, ran two miles, took a shower, and tidied up the apartment all before Lynette even moved from where he'd laid her on the bed the night before. When he finally heard the low moan that belonged solely to the hungover, he was ready with a glass of water and aspirin that she took from him gratefully. As she set the glass down on the nightstand and buried her head in her hands, Lynette groaned in pain and Tom ran a sympathetic hand up and down her back. "Do not," she mumbled into her palms, "let me drink that much on our wedding night. I will not be able to fly on a plane the next day if I'm this hungover."

"Don't worry. The wedding night won't be as much fun if you're not conscious." Tom grinned, but Lynette didn't even glance up to note the teasing look on his face. Resigned, Tom kissed the top of her head and added more seriously, "Drink the rest of the water." He stood to leave her alone, but Lynette caught him by the hem of his shirt and tugged him back onto the bed.

"What happened last night? Was there a fight? Or did I dream that?"

Tom sighed and Lynette lifted her head to look at him. Her eyes widened a little and she brought a hand up to his jaw. The bruise from the punch was a lovely shade of purple underneath the scruff of his unshaven face. "There was a fight," she realized calmly. "You fought…?"

"Our next door neighbor. But only after you threw your drink in his face."

"Oh God. I can't believe that really happened."

"It's not a big deal," said Tom, purposely omitting the fact that last night she'd practically wanted to have sex with him in the bar. If she didn't remember that, he certainly wasn't going to bring it up.

"Don't you think this will just make things worse?"

"I think that maybe they'll leave us alone now. But no matter what, don't worry about it. It's over now."

Lynette sighed, but nodded in agreement. Either she was too hungover to argue, or for once she was just going to take his word for it. Tom smiled at this small victory. "I'm going to the grocery store. Do you need anything that's not on the list already?"

"Tampons."

Tom frowned. "Didn't you just have your period?"

"Yeah. A month ago. Welcome to womanhood."

"Ha ha ha." Tom leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Anything else?"

"No."

Squeezing her leg briefly, Tom stood up and started toward the bedroom door, but he didn't make it more than a third of the way before Lynette added, "Take your time. I need enough time to beat this hangover before you come home." She managed a slightly sickly smile, but somehow it was still charming. "If I'm remembering this right, you were going to get a reward last night before I passed out. And we still have my promotion to celebrate too. That's a long day."

With a grin plastered on his face, Tom crossed the room to kiss her properly. "I'll be hours," he whispered against her lips. "Drink plenty of water."


	18. Mothers

**Disclaimer: **In two days nothing has changed. It's still not mine.

**A/n: **Well I'm nearing the end of this epic story—the longest fanfic I think I've ever written. If everything goes according to plan there will be two more chapters after this one. Thanks again to everyone who has left me feedback on this story. It's wonderful to hear what you think.

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Eighteen: Mothers**

_**His**_

The front door opened and without even looking up from her magazine, Lynette called out, "We're going to be late." She and Tom were going out to dinner that night with friends of theirs, but Tom had insisted on going out with a couple of the guys he worked with to shoot hoops before coming home. As annoyed as she was, there was some pleasure in being right about there not being time because of his impromptu basketball game.

"We'll be right on time."

Lazily, Lynette got up from the couch and walked over to him, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "You're all sweaty."

"That's easy to remedy. Unless…" Tom grinned at her and approached, wrapping his arms around her so his hands settled low on her back. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and said, "You look sexy."

Lynette let him kiss her a few times, not bothering to suppress her smile. Tom's hands slid lower, settling in the back pockets of her jeans before they were rudely interrupted by the telephone. With a groan, Tom pulled away from her and shook his head, subtly trying to convince her to ignore the ringing. She just rolled her eyes.

"I'll get it." Tom leaned in to kiss her again but Lynette swatted at his chest and slipped past him. "Go get a shower." She grabbed the phone off of the cradle and pressed the talk button; "Hello," she said as Tom playfully slapped her ass. She shook her head at him, unable to hide a smile, as he headed toward the bathroom.

"Lynette? It's Allison."

"Oh, Allison. Hi. Tom just went to get a shower. Do you want me to grab him?"

"No, sweetie, that's okay. I actually wanted to talk to you."

Lynette sank down onto the arm of the couch. "Oh. Okay."

"I just wanted to double check your mother's number."

Later, Lynette would swear up and down that her vision honestly blurred for a moment at those words. It wasn't until Tom's mother prompted her more than once that she regained enough cognizance to answer. "Uh…my _mother's_ number? What do you need that for?"

"I mentioned to your sister at the shower that I wanted to get together with your mother for lunch sometime when I was in town. I tried the number she gave me a few times, but I think I might have written it down wrong. I haven't been able to get a hold of her."

Lynette's mind spun for a moment—which of her sisters to kill…Lucy…it had to be big mouthed Lucy—before she said, "Oh well, she's…busy. A lot."

"Of course," agreed Allison smoothly. Apparently if she saw any flaws in Lynette's excuse, she wasn't going to mention them. "I don't know if Tom told you, but Rodney and I are coming in on Tuesday. We're going to be staying with Christa and Shawn. So I thought that, if she's _not _busy, we could get together for lunch."

"Oh." Lynette stood and began to pace the small room. Somehow, she managed to think of every single reason she didn't want Allison to meet her mother without coming up with one appropriate excuse to make. She wasn't quite sure how that was even possible. "I think…With the wedding next week…Well…"

"She's busy?" Allison's tone seemed to read confusion, amusement and worry all at once, but Lynette was too relieved that Allison had latched on to the fact that she didn't want this lunch to happen to care.

"Yes. Very busy."

"Well, that's understandable. We'll just meet at the rehearsal dinner, I suppose."

"Oh my God," Lynette said, laughing nervously. "The rehearsal dinner. Right."

"Do you happen to know what she's wearing to the wedding? I already have my dress, but if we're going to clash I suppose I can get another. Or pull out the one I wore to Christa's. It might still fit."

"I don't know," she said helplessly. "I could find out, though."

"If you think of it."

"I'll find out."

"Thank you."

The conversation wound down quickly after that, ending with an admonition from Allison for her to relax as she sounded tense. Lynette could only manage a shaky laugh and the moment she hung up the phone she tossed it away from her as though it was cursed. How had she forgotten that her mother and Tom's would inevitably meet at the rehearsal dinner? It seemed like the sort of momentous occasion that she should have been worrying about for weeks.

Gingerly, Lynette sat on the couch so she leaned back against the arm, her knees bent up and a pillow squished between her legs and her chest. It felt good to have a secure hold on something when she was worried, even if it was just a pillow. It was comforting. Of course, if the occasion ever arose that she did this when she wasn't anxious, she might have realized that it called back to her old stuffed rabbit, Lester, who she had carried around with her everywhere until her mother unceremoniously threw him away. As it was, Lynette didn't have time to overanalyze childhood traumas; not when more serious problems were brewing.

From the bathroom, the shower shut off and Lynette gave Tom approximately thirty seconds before she shouted at him to come out. He emerged quickly, a towel wrapped around his waist while he ran another one over his hair. "What's with you?" he asked wryly.

"That was your mother."

"Oh yeah?" Tom finished drying his hair and tossed the towel over the back of one of the dining chairs. "What did she want?"

"She wanted my mom's number."

Tom gave a short bark of laughter. "Why?"

"Because Tom!" Lynette punched the pillow to accentuate her displeasure with the situation and Tom raised an eyebrow. "She wanted to have lunch. With my _mother_."

"Okay. So?"

"Tom!"

Tom threw up his hands and backed away. "Okay, wow! You're upset about this. And…I get it?" Lynette glared at him for making it into a question and Tom hurried on. "You don't want them to meet. But…sweetie…they were going to meet eventually. You knew that, right?"

Lynette shook her head. "I thought they'd meet at the reception. You know, once we'd already been legally bound together for life. That way when your mother inevitably freaks out over losing her son to the daughter of a total lunatic she won't be able to do anything about it. But your mother just so kindly reminded me of the rehearsal dinner. How did I forget the rehearsal dinner?"

"I…Well…I…"

"Yeah, Tom? What?"

"I really don't know how to respond without you throwing that pillow at my head."

Lynette buried her face in said pillow and groaned loudly. "Your mother will never let you marry me!"

"I don't think she gets a vote."

Lifting her head, Lynette said, "You really aren't worried about this?"

Hesitantly, Tom sat down on the arm of the sofa. "I'm a little worried about the way you're acting. But about my mom meeting yours? Not so much." Tom attempted a small smile that faded quickly when Lynette didn't return the gesture. "Look, honey, if you're that worried why don't you just talk to your mom about it? I'm sure she can be reasonable."

"Oh yeah. Sure."

Tom shrugged. "Talk to her or don't. It's your choice." He stood and left Lynette alone with her thoughts, half of which now concerned cursing her fiancé for his lackluster response to this crisis.

_**Hers**_

Before they'd left for the restaurant—as they'd been far past late at that point anyway—Lynette had called her mother with the hope of allaying her concerns as quickly as possible. But somehow, someway Lynette still didn't understand, Stella had wiggled around having a conversation on the phone and ended up inviting herself to Lynette's final dress fitting the following day.

When Lynette arrived at the store and found her mother absent, she actually stupidly believed for one shining moment that Stella simply wasn't coming. Her relief was short-lived. By the time the consultant, Aimee, was zipping up her dress, she heard her mother's commanding voice. Unfortunately, Aimee only laughed off Lynette's plea that they not leave the fitting room, and before Lynette knew what was happening she was standing before her mother in her wedding dress.

"White?" said Stella in lieu of a greeting. "Do you really think anyone's going to buy that at your age?"

The comment barely stung—Lynette had heard far worse from her mother over the years—but a biting retort was practically instinct. She wasn't sure if she could define her relationship with her mother in any other terms. "I don't know, Mom," she said, gathering the skirt up into her hands so she could step up onto the platform in front of the mirror. "Did they buy it when you married Dad?"

"I was five months pregnant. No one bought it."

Lynette cracked the barest of smiles as Aimee adjusted the train of the gown. Aimee didn't seem to pick up that this was their usual rapport, and she turned to Stella with a nervous flutter of hands. "Don't judge it until I get the veil." She smiled and then skittered away; in the mirror, Stella caught Lynette's eyes warily.

"You're wearing a veil?"

"What's wrong with a veil?"

Stella shrugged. "I just never saw you in a veil. Of course, I never really saw you getting married either."

The comment was so oddly genuine that Lynette actually turned to face her mother. It had been obvious since the announcement of the engagement that she hadn't been happy, but Lynette thought it was just more of the usual power struggle. After all, for years Stella had been a broken record of _who are you dating?_ and _is it serious?_

"Okay," admitted her mother before Lynette could say anything. "Maybe in your forties. On a whim. To some European guy."

Lynette laughed, torn between actual amusement and a horrifying feeling that her mother wasn't joking. "Are you serious?"

"Look, I had you three pegged from the time you were kids. Lucy was gonna marry the first guy who bowed down to her every whim and then have a bunch of kids. Look at her, she's halfway there. And Lydia, well." Stella huffed and shrugged a shoulder. "What do you expect from that girl? She'll be chronically single until she finally settles down with some totally inappropriate guy. And then all they'll do is fight."

"Wow, Mom. That's so great. I'm glad you had such high expectations for us."

Stella leaned back in her chair, draping an arm over the one beside her and regarding Lynette with a bitter look. "Hey, cookie, you three are my girls. I know you. And you're not gonna be happy with this guy."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lynette saw Aimee approach, shudder at the comment, and abruptly walk away again. Lynette ignored this entirely. "That's a wonderful thing to say to me a week before my wedding, Mom. Really, I shouldn't have expected any less from you."

Stella stood and approached her, and Lynette found herself oddly pleased by the height advantage the platform gave her. For once she could look down at her mother as literally as she did figuratively. If ever a situation warranted it, this one was it. "Lynette, you are my best," Stella implored. "You're the smartest; the most independent. You're going places. I don't want to see you dragged down by some guy whose biggest dream is a house with a white picket fence."

Lynette shook her head, somehow disbelieving and unsurprised at the same time. "You're unbelievable."

"Because I want you to be happy?"

"No. No. Because you don't. This whole little spiel that you know what's best for me; it's an act. This is about you wanting power over me. Ever since we got too big for you to smack around all you've done is play these little mind games. Well it's not going to work this time. So just…stop."

Lynette started to turn to face the mirror again, hoping her mother would take the hint and leave in a huff, but instead Stella clutched her elbow. Angrily, Lynette pulled herself out of her mother's grip. "Don't touch me."

Stella frowned and slowly crossed her arms over her chest. "Like it or not, I'm your mother, kiddo. And whether you believe it or not, I do have your best interests at heart."

Lynette snorted distastefully. "Did you ever think for even a minute that maybe I want the house with the white picket fence?"

"You—"

"That's all I've ever wanted, Mom. A normal life. A normal family. Someone who loves _me_, not the idea of what I could be. You couldn't give me that. So now I'm getting it myself."

"You don't have to settle."

"I love Tom. I _love _him. That's not settling."

They stared at one another for a long moment, Lynette unblinkingly refusing to back down. Her mother wasn't a tumor she could simply cut out of her life, much as she might want to at times. They were inexorably joined, bonded in a way Lynette couldn't change. But the sooner her mother realized that Tom was going to be just as permanent in her life, the easier this would be.

"You look…very nice in that dress," Stella said carefully.

Lynette took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Thank you."

She received a curt nod in response and then Stella grabbed her purse from the chair and adjusted her sweater with a twitch of her hands. "I'll see you on Friday. At the rehearsal."

"Mom—"

Stella waved a dismissive goodbye and disappeared. Dimly, it dawned on Lynette that she hadn't actually managed to give her mother a single warning about the rehearsal dinner, although she wasn't sure it mattered now. Maybe the discussion would be enough for her mother to be on her best behavior; maybe it wouldn't. But Tom, really, had been right. Regardless of what happened, they were still going to get married the next day.

No one was going to change that.


	19. Release

**Disclaimer: **Absolutely not mine. Which should be obviously by now.

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Nineteen: Release**

_**Sadness**_

"Where is Lynette?"

Tom, who was talking with his father, stopped mid-sentence to glance curiously at Lucy. Despite only being the maid of honor, she seemed more on edge about the rehearsal than either he or Lynette. "I don't know," he said, scanning the room for his bride-to-be. "She was here a second ago."

"It's getting late. We need to start."

His father rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "I think I saw her go outside. Maybe she needed some fresh air. It's kind of stuffy in here."

Lucy nodded gratefully and stepped between them to head toward the exit, but Tom caught her arm as she passed. "I'll go find her. Do me a favor and try to stop my mom from freaking out about the time, okay?"

His dad snorted. "Easier said than done. Good luck with that one, honey."

Ignoring his father and whatever retort Lucy inevitably gave, Tom started up the aisle toward the door. It seemed strange for Lynette to disappear right before their rehearsal was about to start, but given the number of overly excited people in the room, he couldn't entirely blame her. It was a little overwhelming.

Tom opened the door and stepped out into the rapidly cooling night air, looking around for a minute before he spotted Lynette leaning against the side of the building. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but Tom couldn't tell if she was upset or just chilled from being outside without a jacket. "Hey," he said, catching her attention, but not her eyes. She continued to stare out into the street even as he walked toward her. "We're ready to start. What are you doing out here?"

Lynette shook her head in that wildly upsetting way that meant she was about to lose it, but was doing everything in her power not to. She took a deep breath, but her words still came out shaky: "My mother isn't here."

"Oh. Well—"

"At first I thought she was just running late, you know. As usual. But I just called her and she's out at some bar."

Fumbling for some unfathomable platitude to make this better and coming up short, Tom frowned deeply. This wasn't exactly an everyday situation. He settled for the first cohesive thought that sprung to mind. "Sweetie, you were so worried about tonight…Maybe it's for the best?"

Lynette bit her lip and then finally looked at him. Her eyes were damp with unshed tears. "I know what I said. And I know it's stupid. I mean, if she was here I'd probably just end up wanting to kill her. But she's my mother. This is one of those big moments that your mother is supposed to be here for."

Tom reached out a hand to squeeze her shoulder. "Did something happen at the dress fitting? You didn't say much…"

"She told me how she felt about us getting married. She said that I was making a mistake. But I thought I got through to her. I thought she got it, even if she didn't agree... God."

"Hey, come here." He pulled her toward him, hugging her tightly and resting his cheek against the top of her head. He supposed he had to hand it to Stella; no one was a horribly selfish and twisted as she was. "It's just the rehearsal. I'm sure she'll be at the wedding tomorrow."

Lynette sniffled a couple of times. "What am I going to tell your parents?"

"I'll talk to my parents. Don't worry about it."

Tom sensed someone behind him before he actually noticed Lucy out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn't surprised that she'd been sent out to fetch them. They'd already been ten minutes behind schedule when he'd gone out to find Lynette. "Hey, what's going on?" she asked, shifting her weight in an antsy manner. "You're not calling off the wedding, are you?"

Lynette stepped away from him and shook her head. "No. We're fine. It's fine. Let's go in."

With a glance at Tom—who nodded reassuringly—Lucy gave her sister a wary smile. "Okay. Good. Here, take this." She held out a bouquet of bows that seemed oddly patchy, and to Tom's surprise, the sight of it actually made Lynette guffaw.

"What the hell is this?"

"Your bouquet for the rehearsal. It's a little shabby, I know, but you kept ripping the bows apart at the shower!" Lucy rolled her eyes. "Do you realize how you're tempting fate? You're going to end up with about ten kids."

Lynette gave her sister a sour smile. "That's an old wives' tale." She sighed and reluctantly reached out to take the bouquet from her sister.

"Yeah, well so is the idea that it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding, but you're still staying at Lydia's tonight."

"Oh yeah. And who can argue with logic like that?" Lynette reached out and took Tom's hand and all three of them turned to walk back into the building.

_**Anger**_

The rehearsal went more smoothly than Tom expected, given Lynette's heightened emotions and both of their families' tendencies to micromanage. As it turned out, Lucy actually got along fabulously with his mother and between the two of them they somehow joined forces to keep Lynette from panicking about the last minute details. But Tom really gave a majority of the credit to Dave, who'd dragged Shawn to restaurant where they were having dinner and effectively kept him out of everyone's hair. It was a relief given the fact that just minutes before Tom had gone out to find Lynette, Shawn had still been vying for the opportunity to serenade them at some point during the ceremony. Had Lynette heard, Shawn very well might have been the victim of her pent up pain and frustration with her mother.

The dinner itself went just as well. Through word of mouth between the family members, either Dave or Shawn had had enough insight to remove the extra chair from their table before they even arrived at the restaurant. When they sat down, Stella's absence remained seamlessly eloquent; noted but not spoken of. His mother had taken the news of Stella's absence with understanding aplomb. Somehow, she hadn't even seemed surprised.

Given how perfectly the evening was going other than the one, admittedly large, setback, Tom really supposed that he should have been better prepared when it all went straight to hell. As it was, though, he'd honestly expected to drift through the rest of the evening on champagne bubbles and euphoria. It wasn't meant to be.

Just as the waiters began to serve dessert, the doors to the private room burst open, hitting one of the servers and creating a loud clamor as three plates of flan crashed to the floor. As Tom turned his head and caught sight of Stella, the source of the disruption, he felt his heart plummet. She was obviously smashed and as she stumbled over to the bar, Tom had a sinking feeling that the collision was not the last of her disturbances.

Before Tom could do anymore than viscerally react, Lynette stood up with a horrified expression. But to his surprise it was Lydia who accosted Stella first, practically flying from the table in an effort to reach her mother. "Mom," she hissed as she plastered a fake smile on her face for the rest of the room. All eyes were on them. "Come on. Let's go sit down. Have some coffee."

"No!" Stella brushed off Lydia's tenuous hold on her arm with a belligerent swipe. "I have things to say and I'm gonna say them. It's my right. I'm the mother of the bride!" She turned to look out at the room and repeated, though given that she was shouting, Tom was sure everyone had already heard, "I'm the mother of the bride!"

Tom looked up at Lynette nervously, unsurprised to see that the color had completely drained from her face. Worriedly, he tried to pull her back down to her seat, but she just shook her head. He wasn't quite sure if the gesture was directed at him or her mother, but either way, Lynette apparently wasn't going to budge. With a hapless glance to his own mother—who gazed at Stella with a mix of hesitation and disgust—Tom couldn't think of anything to do but watch this horror unfold before him.

"That's my little girl," Stella slurred, pointing to Lynette as though no one realized. "My little girl who was able to cook for herself by the time she was eight. Eight! She was this scrawny little thing, but God was she scrappy. I mean, I remember this one time, she beat up this kid for making fun of her sister for some stupid reason. A boy a whole year older than her. That's impressive! And you know what? I bet you could still beat him up today if you wanted to, Lynette. You could still kick his ass!"

Stella leaned heavily against the bar and rubbed her fingers on her forehead. For a split second, Tom thought she might actually pass out and end this misery, but apparently the wish was too good to be true. She cleared her throat loudly and continued. "And now you're getting married. To this guy!" She pointed in Tom's general direction, apparently not quite able to focus on him. "Because you love him. She loves you, you know. She told me. Because I told her that she wasn't gonna be happy, but she didn't care. Because she loves you. Which is great. Good for you, kiddo. You love him."

"Mom, please," begged Lydia. She actually went so far as to grab Stella's wrist and firmly yank her, but Stella angrily twisted out of her grip, propelling Lydia backward until she almost fell.

"I'm not done!" she yelled. Lydia, seemingly past her quota for dealing with her mother's drunken antics, actually turned and fled the room. It only made Tom angrier, and he abruptly stood and began to cross the room. Stella, uncaring, continued. "So I was kind of upset about all this. Because, I mean, Tom seems like a nice guy, but I had two husbands who seemed like nice guys and it doesn't get you very far. But then I was out tonight and I was thinking about when my baby was a baby and I realized that in her whole life she's never done anything she doesn't wanna do. And she was always looking out for me and her sisters and everyone else and she always kinda knew what was best. So, Lynette, you know what? Maybe you're right. Maybe this guy—" Tom reached her and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her toward the door, even as she continued, "—maybe he is the right guy. So congratulations! You're probably right that you'll be very happy together."

To Tom's relief, Stella unflinchingly let him lead her from the room now that she'd finished talking; somehow he managed to keep himself from shoving her out the door. Behind him he could hear his father getting up to smooth over the awkwardness and Tom was suddenly more than grateful for his natural charm. It came in very handy in the worst situations.

"What are we doing out here?" asked Stella as he led her out into the parking lot. "The party's in there!" She turned to go back inside, and Tom physically stopped her.

"I think you've done enough."

"What? I was just giving a toast. That's what you're supposed to do." The door opened again and Lynette stepped outside. The expression on her face was unreadable; Tom couldn't begin to imagine how she felt. "Tell him, Lynette," Stella insisted. "Tell him that's what you're supposed to do."

To Tom's surprise, Lynette murmured, "That's what you're supposed to do." She didn't look at him, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on her mother, who was swaying unsteadily. Then, unexpectedly, Stella half-leaned, half-fell forward and hugged Lynette.

"You're gonna have everything."

Lynette nodded, patting her mother's back a couple of times. "Yeah, I know, Mom." She sighed and pulled back and then wrapped an arm around her mother's shoulders. Finally looking up at Tom, she reached out her hand and said, "Give me the car keys."

"What?"

"I have to take her home. Give me the keys."

Before Tom could process what she'd just said, she actually dug into his suit pocket and pulled out his car keys. "Lynette!" Uneasy, he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're just going to leave?"

"I'll be back in a half an hour."

"Lynette!"

"What, Tom? What do you want me to do? She can't stay here! And she certainly can't get herself home!"

"I'm fine!"

Neither he nor Lynette responded to this; they simply continued to stare at one another. He couldn't understand how after what had just happened she was actually going to leave their rehearsal dinner to take care of her mother. It was insane. It was incomprehensible.

"She's my _mother_, Tom."

It was Lynette.

Blowing out a blustery sigh and running a hand through his hair, Tom slowly agreed. "Okay. But I'm coming with you."

"You don't have to—"

"I'm coming with you. Just give me a second to tell my parents."

Lynette nodded. "Okay."

_**Pain**_

Stella, to Tom's utter relief, lived on the first floor of a rather dingy apartment building only about ten minutes away. Even so, by the time they got there, she had passed out in the backseat and it took his and Lynette's joint efforts to carry her into her apartment. Once inside, they only got her mother as far as a lumpy pull-out couch before unceremoniously laying her down. Lynette sat down on the end of the mattress, quickly pulled off her mother's shoes and then went to the kitchen to retrieve a trash can and a bottle of aspirin.

"You've done this a lot," Tom observed. It was a disheartening, if obvious, realization.

"Not in a long time. But when I lived at home, yeah, a lot." She set the bottle of aspirin on the small end table next to the couch, put the trash can on the floor, and then went back to the kitchen for a glass of water. Tom glanced around the room. In the dim light, it was hard to get a good feel for the place, but he could tell that it wasn't very clean and that it lacked any kind of homey quality. With no pictures or knickknacks or personal items in sight, it was one of the least friendly places he'd ever seen.

Lynette came back into the room and set the glass of water next to the aspirin. "Okay," she said. "Let's get out of here before she wakes up." She brushed past him, back to the door, and Tom turned around feeling somewhat incredulous.

"What? That's it?"

"She'll be fine. Trust me. I'll have Lucy call her in the morning."

Tom threw a parting glance at Stella over his shoulder, but then obediently followed Lynette out of the apartment. Once the door was shut and locked behind them, Tom reached out a hand to grasp Lynette's elbow, stopping her before she could walk outside. "Are you okay?"

"This is nothing unusual."

Tom shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She looked down at the ground and then up at the ceiling before finally meeting his eyes. She looked tired, beaten down, but unlike earlier there wasn't a tear in sight. "She…That…" She shook her head. "It could have been a lot worse."

"Really? How?"

"At least she was trying to congratulate us. I mean, it was horrible and evil and possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life, but at least she wasn't begging me to call off the wedding."

Tom felt like he was dealing with Lynette in her least sane moment, but he tried desperately to keep his feelings from showing in his face. "I can't believe you're okay with this."

"I'm…Tom, it is what it is. She is who she is. I can't change her." Lynette pinched the bridge of her nose for a second. "It took me a really, really long time to realize that."

"So what? We're just going to pretend that never happened? Just see her at the wedding tomorrow and act like everything is okay?"

Lynette took his hands in hers, glancing at their entwined fingers for a second before looking back at him. "Do you still want to marry me?"

It was the easiest question he'd ever have to answer; he didn't even have to think about it. "Of course."

"Then none of this matters. Tom, I stood in that bridal shop with her and listened to her go on and on about what she thought I wanted; what she thought I needed. And I realized that her opinions didn't matter. I didn't need her approval or your family's approval or anyone else's. I want to marry you. And as long as you want to marry me too, then that's all that matters."

Tom leaned down and kissed her as firmly and passionately as he ever had. Her words were all the reassurance he could have ever asked for; and to hear her say that now was exactly what he needed.

"I love you," she said, kissing him a few more times before putting a sliver of distance between them.

"I love you too."

She smiled. "Okay. I'm glad that's settled."

Tom laughed, a welcome relief after all of the tension, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. With one last quick kiss, they began to walk outside, leaving the last of their troubles behind them.


	20. Ebb and Flow

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**A/n: **Last chapter of this epically long fic. I'd really like to thank everyone who read this and everyone who took the time to review. Thanks for sticking with me from beginning to end. And I'd also like to thank **Asrielle**, who took the time to read every chapter of this and catch all of my mistakes as well as deal with my spurts of craziness in my determination to get this story written the way I want.

I hope you all enjoy this last part. Please take a second to let me know what you think.

-**Ryeloza-**

**The Hour Shadows Disappear**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Twenty: Ebb and Flow**

**Parting**

Tom pressed Lynette against the car door, one hand on her hip and the other braced against the hood of the car so she was effectively boxed in. They'd been saying goodnight for about fifteen minutes now and though she knew that she was supposed to go up to Lydia's apartment and get a good night's sleep, she was finding it harder to leave Tom than she'd expected. The fact that he apparently felt the same way wasn't helping matters.

"Who decided spending the night apart was a good idea?" he asked, leaning even further into her personal space. He pressed his lips against her forehead and slowly began to pepper her face with kisses. "It's a bad, bad, bad idea."

Lynette smiled. "We never have to be apart again after tonight."

"We never have to be apart ever again if you just come home with me now."

Anticipating her weak protest, Tom kissed her soundly, his lips and tongue effectively shutting her up. Lynette didn't fight him, just languidly wrapping her arms around his neck and enjoying the feel of him against her. Every error and disappointment of the night had been washed away by Tom's love and understanding, and Lynette didn't particularly relish the thought of leaving him now. But even as his hand weaved through her hair to pull her closer, Lynette knew that one way or another she would go into that apartment building tonight.

Tom pulled away from her, brushing his nose against hers as he did. "Come with me."

"I can't." She sighed and dropped her hands to his chest, gently pushing him until he backed up to let her go. "You know as well as I do that being together is worth the wait."

"But the next time I see you—"

"I'll be walking down the aisle." She gave him a quick peck. "And the next time we kiss, I'll be your wife."

"Oh, I like the sound of that."

"Me too."

Tom sighed. "Then I guess I better go home."

"Yes." She gave his hand a brief squeeze and then started to walk backward toward the building so she could keep her eyes on him. "I love you."

"I love you."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Tom groaned dramatically, leaning back against the car door. Lynette grinned at his theatrics, but inside she felt the same.

Tomorrow was an eternity away.

**In Between**

Lynette couldn't sleep.

Lydia had surprisingly and sweetly given up her bed and taken the fold-out sofa for herself and clearly her sister's choice in beds far exceeded her choice in men. But despite the level of comfort and how tired she was after such a long day, sleep eluded her. It couldn't be helped; her mind was flying days, weeks and years ahead of her body and sleep just couldn't keep up with that level of mental elasticity.

The future was only predictable in its unerring uncertainty; this was a lesson that Lynette had learned as a very young child and one that was constantly and shockingly reinforced. Just ten months ago she'd single and her only concern had been looking for a better job; now here she was about to get married. It was a thought that would have been as laughable a year ago as it was inevitable today. But despite how volatile the future was, Lynette couldn't help but let her wishes and hopes and dreams run rampant.

Lynette rolled onto her side and looked at the empty half of the bed, wondering if fifteen miles away Tom wasn't sleeping either. When he was restless he usually ended up in the kitchen and she could imagine him puttering around making a sandwich or tea or something else that probably wasn't a good idea at one in the morning. Without her there, he'd probably eat whatever he made in their bed with the television quietly murmuring in the background; that cute wrinkle in his brow that he got when he was thinking too hard.

One hazy image hung in her mind—a vision she kept coming back to again and again as her thoughts meandered; one she wondered if Tom shared too. She could see them together on the porch of some shapeless house, old and gray and wrinkled but still very much in love with one another. It was a circumstance of perfection that Lynette would spend her whole life working toward, no matter what the years in between might bring.

This was the last thought on her mind as she fell into a light and rather restless sleep.

**Joining**

Morning didn't come soon enough, even though Lynette hadn't had the best sleep of her life. Her night had been punctuated with several moments where she'd woken and reached out to touch Tom only to remember that he wasn't there; though by the time morning came, she was wide awake. Now, hours later, she was standing in her wedding dress and veil, her make-up already done and shoes on, watching her youngest sister pacing the floor like a caged animal. The movement was distracting and anxious and it wasn't serving to calm Lynette in any way. "Will you please stop that?" she demanded. "You're making me nervous."

Lydia turned quickly, the skirt of her bridesmaid dress flaring out like a wave in the ocean, and collapsed into one of the chairs near the window. "You should be nervous. Why aren't you nervous?"

Truthfully, Lynette had felt inordinately tense since she'd woken up that morning and immediately gotten carried away in the rush and flurry of getting ready. She was impatiently excited for the ceremony to start and the anticipation made her edgy. But how she felt and how Lydia thought she should feel were two different things. "There's nothing to be nervous about," she said, trying and failing to catch the clasp of her necklace for the third time. She groaned. "Help me with this, will you?"

With a huffy sigh, Lydia stood again and came over to hook the necklace. "Sorry. I guess I was just flashing back to Lucy's wedding. There, it's clasped."

Lynette hiked up the skirt of her dress, slowly turning around to face her sister. "Trust me," she said humorlessly, "I have no intention of locking myself in the bathroom."

"Thank God that dress was too big for her to climb out the window. You know I still have nightmares about drowning in white taffeta?"

"You're not the one who had to climb in the window to talk her down."

Lydia gave her a wry look, but the door opened before she could respond and Lucy popped into the room. "Mom is in her seat and she's completely sober," she announced. "Although I still think you should have let me duct tape her mouth shut." She paused, let out a deep breath, and seemed to realize it was better to completely drop the subject of their mother. "You look really beautiful, Lynnie."

Lynette smiled gratefully—both at the compliment and at Lucy's common sense to not mention their mother anymore. "Thanks."

Lucy nodded, a brief look of emotion passing through her eyes before she clapped her hands and resumed a brisk, business-like approach to the day. "Well, okay. The guys are all here and ready to go, but, more importantly, are you ready to start?"

"More than ready."

"Good, because I think Tom is going to throw up if you make him wait much longer."

The door creaked open again and this time Christa stuck her head in the room. "We're all ready out here? You guys good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

Lydia picked up the train of her dress to make it easier for her to walk out into the hall outside of the room for the ceremony. Her other bridesmaids and the groomsmen were already milling about, but between Christa and her brassy little sister, it took maybe a minute for everyone to get paired and ready to go. In a flash, Lydia finished fiddling with her dress and Lucy handed her a bouquet and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before falling into place. And that was it; before Lynette could comprehend more than the flutter of butterflies in her stomach, the doors opened, the music and procession started and she was suddenly about to walk the most important thirty feet of her life.

In the breath of the moment before she stepped into the aisle, every second of every day she'd spent with Tom seemed to slip through her mind like sand through a sieve. Every kiss; every smile; every argument; every intimate moment; every dance; every dinner together—a cascade of images; her entire life for the past nine months. And here she was on a precipice about to fall into the rest of her life with no safety net, no parachute, only the knowledge that this man was going to make the same leap of faith.

Lynette locked eyes with Tom and every other person in the room seemed to fade into the background. There was an anxiousness about him that Lynette knew was born of the same eagerness that hers was, but overwhelming everything else was the spark in his eyes when he saw her. He was looking at her like she was the only other person in the world and she couldn't help but think that maybe, just for today, she was.

As she began to walk down the aisle, Lynette felt flush with joy. This moment, here and now, was the pinnacle moment of her life; the one around which her past and future would forever revolve, flourishing in the brilliance of her love for this man. Nothing else mattered; nothing could possibly shadow this day, now or ever after.

And so it was with light and love bubbling inside of her that Lynette reached out to take Tom's hand, lacing their fingers together and smiling softly. "Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi." Tom grinned and squeezed her hand. "You look amazing."

"So do you." She let out a shaky breath, already fighting tears, and bit her lip for a second. "You ready for this?"

"Without a doubt in my mind. You?"

Lynette nodded and with unusual saccharine that had never been more genuine, said, "I've been waiting my whole life for you."

Tom cupped her cheek with his hand for a brief second, blinking back tears himself, and simply nodded. She knew without him saying it that he felt the same way and her heart nearly sung with that knowledge. "Okay," she whispered.

And together they walked the last few steps toward the rest of their lives.

_-Fin-_


End file.
